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evanchantingpeters · 2 months ago

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 7 - Final)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Summary ─ A couple of months after Jake’s (Evan’s friend) tragic accident left him fighting for his life in intensive care, Evan is spiralling, lost in despair, a shadow of his former self. Just as a sliver of good news about his condition offers a ray of hope, Y/N steps in, determined to bring some light into Evan’s shattered world. She starts with a seductive dance and builds to a night of passion. But Evan has a surprise—one that will change everything in a way Y/N never saw coming.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, lap dance, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, missionary, extra smutty—like you like it.

Word count ─ 5.1K (I had a lot to say 🤫)

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

Previously on: How I met Evan Peters (Part 6)

“W-what’s up, Jeremy?” he stutters, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s Jake,” Jeremy blurts out, his expression twisting into one of anguish. “He’s fallen off the roof.” Jeremy’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the colour draining from Evan’s face. The room goes deathly quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. The room spins as everything comes to a screeching halt.

Two months after Jake’s accident

Thursday, 16:42 pm

You settle into the cosy corner of his New York apartment, the city’s hustle muffled by the soft hum of the radiator. A rustic wooden desk hosting your work setup and a quirky lamp, which has seen better days but adds to the character, stands against the wall. A plush bean bag chair invites you to sink in while a baroque rug sprawls beneath your feet, and a bookshelf stuffed with books and random knick-knacks lurks by your side. Sunlight streams through light, breezy curtains, making it a perfect workspace for your remote routine. With Evan busy with press and meetings for the next few weeks, this place feels almost like a retreat—if only you could shake off the looming frustration of the Excel table before you.

You’d think by now you’d have mastered the art of not losing your shit at work, being the corporate girlie you are, while dealing with this stupid spreadsheet, but nope. Here you are, puffing like the Big Bad Wolf trying to blow down formulas that refuse to behave.

As you’re fighting and suffering through, your hand drifts toward your phone. You know how it goes. Brain’s fried, and next thing you know, you’re aimlessly scrolling through the endless pit of Instagram reels without even realising it. Well, this time it’s Evan’s name glowing like a beacon of your favourite “distraction,” and your stomach flutters, your heart racing.

Oh, hello, messages!

You open the chat, expecting a quick “I’ll be back in 10’, baby. Can’t wait to kiss you” text or maybe a meme about cats judging people (you know, standard fare). Instead, what do you find? A picture. But not just any picture. Oh no, this man, YOUR man, is standing there in a white tee, his pose giving swagger “yo” next to Todd McFarlane, a comic book legend. The whole shebang.

And here comes the string of messages:

“Babyyyy, look - Todd McFarlane in da house for the press conference!!”

“he’s signed the Amazing Spider-Man hardcopy!!”

“ill bring it home and we frame it ;)”

“we’re going live.. tune in xx”

“changed into the blazer and stripy tee you picked for me. Love you so ♥️”

Let’s pause here. Not at Todd McFarlane – who, mind you, is hands-down a god in his domain, but no. Your eyes, traitors that they are, keep sliding back to that picture of Evan.

Because damn.

Todd’s cool and all, but Evan in that white tee and messy curls? Where do you even begin? The man looks like he rolled out of bed straight into a photoshoot and decided to smoulder for no apparent reason. You know the one—that half-cocked sly smile that screams, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing to do, and you’re welcome.”

You catch yourself zooming in and drooling over him like a total goofball. The scrunched-up grimace. The luscious Tarzan hair. The way his eyes carry a hint of sadness and fatigue but with residues of that familiar spark he always has. It’s weird how something as simple as a picture can make your heart do that silly backflip thing over and over again after more than a year with him.

Snap out of it, girl. Spreadsheet’s waiting. But no, instead of getting back to formulas, your brain takes a little detour down Memory Lane. Suddenly, you’re remembering the last time Evan was kneeling in front of you. Not in some adorable, “let me tie your shoes, princess” way, but more of an arousing “let me worship you, queen,” Roman Empire situation.

Oh, yeah. That night.

You’d seized your throne aka that big armchair in the middle of the dimly-lit living room. And there he was, on his knees, completely surrendered to you. His tongue was lapping on your wet folds like you were the sweetest cake frosting he’d ever tasted. His slender fingers were plumping in and out of you in all the right spots as he slurped up your syrups and juices, sucking on your clit like it’s cherry on dessert.

His tongue would thrash and french kiss your puffy sobbing walls up near the throbbing bulb of your sensitive clit. You tugged on his hair, his brown curls wrapped around your fingers like reins as he pulled you apart, inch by inch. Your jaw tightened as his tongue and fingers mercilessly rutted into you, giving you crazed whiplash as you squirt, all while licking you clean with eager choked moans.

Your body tremors and orgasmic vibrations were seismic… just like they are now as your cunt pulsates and aches for him, even though you’re sitting at the dining table, fully clothed and miles away from him.

Funny how memories can sneak up on you like that, isn’t it?

But here’s the kicker. As much as you’d love for a repeat performance, that’s not where you guys are at these days. Not since Jake fell off the roof at the party he hosted at his place. You get it–one of Evan’s best friends is in a hospital bed, clinging to life while in a coma, and Evan’s drowning in his own sea of emotions and sorrow. The man is dragging so much weight on his shoulders right now.

And you respect that. You really do. Your sex life has justifiably taken a backseat, but you’re not here to push or force him. What you have and share with him isn’t mere lust; you love him, and you acknowledge that he’s having it rough at the moment. You’ve been trying to be his rock, the one who keeps him grounded while he navigates the heavy blizzard of the tragedy.

But you can’t help it.

Sometimes, your mind slips back to those sizzling moments where your bodies speak in a language only you two comprehend. Because, let’s be real—he might be wearing the blazer you chose for him in the morning, but under all that fabric, you’re the one who gets to undress the real Evan. And if that’s not worth waiting for, you don’t know what is.

You sigh, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, but you’ve left the spreadsheets and work far behind with all those cheeky little fantasies that gnaw on your brain. Still knee-deep in wet daydreams of Evan and his—well, *coughing* talents, when the universe decides to slap you in the face with reality.

That “we’re going live, tune in xx” text blinks back at you from the chat, practically yelling to stop fantasising and actually be the supportive girlfriend you claim to be.

Gasp.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Gasp again.

The press conference! You need to watch it. Like, now.

You scramble up from the table so fast, you’d think the chair is lava, and launch into a desperate hunt for the TV remote. The remote is like a cryptid—always hiding in the most inconvenient places at the worst times. Last week? In the fridge. Don’t ask. Today? Who knows. You’re flipping couch cushions like you’re on an archaeological dig.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelp, your high-pitched voice bouncing off the walls like you’re a banshee in panic mode. Female rage core.

Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. It’s like the remote’s decided to pack its bags and set off to Narnia with no return ticket.

Curse you, technology masterminds.

Plan B.

You rush back to your laptop, slide your fingers along the trackpad to wake it up, and—oh no, what’s this? Your whole screen’s been hijacked by the most evil of phrases:

Software Update: 30% Complete.

Are. You. For. Real.

You stare at the loading bar like you can will it to go faster. Or pretend you’re not watching, so it speeds up. Smart but nah, that’s placebo—no such luck. This thing is moving slower than a Monday morning during rush hours, and if you wait for it, you’ll be watching Evan’s interview in the past tense or through his narration once he’s back home.

You let out a huff that could probably power a small wind turbine and whip out your phone, praying to every deity that your Wi-Fi doesn’t fail you amidst crisis.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter through gritted teeth, frantically tapping apps like your fingers are on caffeine overload. And just when you think someone is playing another cruel trick on you—boom, there it is. The live stream.

The screen lights up, and there comes baby Evan on stage, looking all sleek and profesh in his blazer (you knew the combo with the stripes underneath would work wonders *proud stylist smiling*). He’s sitting on a stool along with his co-stars, all of them gathered in this massive amphitheatre for their upcoming movie press tour.

He’s got the mic in his hand, finishing up a sentence with that smooth, husky tone. You know, that voice that sounds like a lullaby wrapped in velvet. But there’s also the twist of dorky humour and the cute brow furrows he taps into when he’s either totally in his element or way too awkward.

The interviewer gives him a nod, then sighs. Your stomach drops.

The next question is about Jake, as he’s guy well known for scripting some of the most beloved TV shows. If there were a Hall of Fame for TV writers, his star would be as big as a small planet. He’s adored by fandoms for his wit and creativity, and now you’re all grappling with the fallout from his misfortune.

You can see the shift in Evan’s face from media charm to something… darker, melancholic. He’s trying so hard to stay composed, but you know him. That tiny flicker of anguish behind his eyes filters through the cracks.

Evan takes a sharp breath and clears his throat. “Yeah, Jake was moved from LA and remains in ICU here in New York,” he admits, voice steady but edged with quiet vulnerability. “But there’s… a... there’s a glimmer of hope. He moved his hand today.”

For a second, the world stops spinning. Did he just say—? He moved?!

Your heart does a somersault, and you can’t help it—you cheer and clap right along with the audience, even though you’re alone in the living room in your mismatched socks, overstretched yoga shorts, and messy bun. Who cares, honestly? Jake moved his hand.

Evan lets the crowd’s enthusiasm bubble up for a second before he delicately taming it. “It’s good news,” he continues, his voice like a fuzzy blanket, soothing yet cautious. “But let’s not start planning the parade just yet—there’s a long road ahead for him. We’ll have to see how his health evolves from here. I just wanted to share this little nugget of hope. His family’s already spreading the word, and they gave me the green light to pass it on to all of you.”

There’s a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he’s got a fortress built around his emotions, probably fighting not to let it crumble in front of all those people and cameras. Your baby’s always been strong like steel this way, the type who carries everyone’s baggage on his shoulders without ever letting on how heavy it is.

You sit there, phone in hand, staring at his face on the screen. There’s so much going on behind those eyes, and you know he probably feels like crap underneath that calm exterior.

You wish you could reach through the screen and just be there with him in a “I’ve got you, you’re not alone” kind of way. You’ve been weathering this storm together, and it’s been tough as hell. It’s taken everything in him just to stay afloat, but he’s doing it. He’s really doing it...

There’s something about post-work Thursdays that sends you into this frantic, impulsive must-clean-everything-in-sight mode. Not that Evan cares if there’s a pile of laundry in the corner or if the dishes are threatening to stage a rebellion in the sink, but still. He doesn’t expect you to tackle it all just because you’re working fully from home; he can do it himself, but you want the place to look neat and tidy. You know, like “I have my life together and didn’t just spend the last two hours binge-watching cooking videos on YouTube” level of very demure, very mindful adulthood.

So here you are, in full-on cleaning tornado mode—scrubbing the counter with the kind of intensity that could probably burn calories—when your ears perk at the rustling sound.

That magical jingle of keys. The ignition. The click of the door unlocking.

Baby Evan’s home.

You drop the sponge like it’s on fire and just bolt. You don’t even think. It’s pure instinct, like you’re a puppy who heard the treat jar open. Your pulse leaps, your feet fly, and before you know it, you’re flinging the front door open just as he steps in. And there he is.

Your man. Your whole heart.

He’s got his arms full—takeout bags in one hand, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking more mouth-watering than anything that could possibly be in those containers. His hair’s a little ruffled, his shirt rumpled from the day, but to you, he might as well be walking straight out of a rom-com.

“EVIEEEE!” you squeal, pouncing at him with the enthusiasm of a kid on a sugar high.

“Whoa!” he chuckles heartily, catching you mid-air. He spins you around even though you can sense the stiffness in his body as he battles not to drop the dinner. He’s out of breath, but he holds you tight, like he’s afraid to let go. His backpack slides down his arm, and for a second, you’re just tangled together—glued around him, his hands grasping on you firmly.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” he teases, his voice hoarse from the long day. But you can see it in his eyes—he’s just as hyped to be back in your little cocoon as you are.

“You have no idea,” you breathe, and before you can utter anything else, his lips are on yours, kissing you like he’s been starved for weeks. You’re pretty sure you hear the bags crinkle between you two, but whatever… they can wait.

It’s not just a kiss. Oh no, this is the you-just-got-kissed-senseless kind that says, “I’m never letting you out of my reach again.” It’s deep and sloppy, and you feel it all the way down your toes. Little lewd moans escape your bodies as your tongues greet each other, swirling around in a lustful dance. He tastes like toffee, baby powder, warmth, comfort, and home.

You melt into each other, completely forgetting about the bags or the fact that you’ve still got soap on your hands. You twirl faster together as his hands mischievously squeeze your ass, making you giggle into his mouth.

“I was counting the hours to get to you, Y/N, and time was a total bitch today,” he grumbles, and it’s a husky purr near the nape of your neck. Your plump lips curl into an “awh, my poor baby” pout, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you swarm his face with little pecks.

When he finally sets you down, you’re both grinning like idiots. Your heart’s doing cartwheels, and your stomach feels like you’ve swallowed a whole bunch of butterflies. You missed him. Not just having him around, but all the little things tied in—his laugh, his hands on you, the way he stares at you like you’re a precious gem.

Closing the door behind you, you pace together towards the kitchen, and get the itch to drop the question, “Did Jake really move?” Your voice is hopeful, but there’s a little tinge of fear there too. You know how much this means to Evan, so you need to tread about cautiously.

He pauses, chucking his backpack aside before turning to you. His eyes soften, and he nods, stepping closer. His hands find your waist again, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Yeah. He really did.”

Before you can even process the relief, Evan’s lips are on yours again, soft whimpers rolling off him. This time, the kiss is slower, more tender like silky ribbons on your mouth. His lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, his breath tingly against your heated skin. “Gosh, how much I needed you today,” he whispers between kisses, his voice dense with emotion as he presses his mouth lower, toward the neckline of your sports bra. His fingers gently graze your sides and rest on your hip bones before massaging your ass, and your breath hitches.

You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension melt out of him as his body leans into yours. “Me too,” you huff out, because honestly, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath all day, just waiting for him to come home.

But then you pull away slightly, the thought of Jake scratching the back of your mind. “Can we go see him now?”

Evan sighs, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm and steady. “Not tonight,” he exhales, taking a couple of steps back. “It’s just family. They wanna keep it low with the visits.”

You shake your head in acknowledgment, nervously biting your fingernail. You get it—you really do—but there’s still that little sting of disappointment tugging at your chest. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, glancing over at you again as he tears the bags apart and unpacks the food. “We’ll try tomorrow afternoon. His family’s still adjusting, but I’ll talk to them.”

The relief that washes over you is like a pleasant, summer breeze, calming your frayed nerves. Tomorrow. You let out a breathy, “Okay, great,” your shoulders finally loosening. As you approach him to help dispose of the bags, Evan’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist in one quick, playful motion, pulling you flush against him.

You barely have time to gasp before his lips crash against yours, his tongue barging in your mouth without warning, assaulting yours in tantalising ways that are better left unsaid. You loop your arms around the back of his head and drag him closer, your tits cushioning his shredded chest.

“Don’t leave, please,” he hushes, his lips caressing yours. His voice is huskier now, a bit rougher around the edges, and you can feel the warmth from his body merging with yours. His free hand slips down to the supple flesh of your waist again, fingers curling just under the hem of your top to tuck underneath.

You smirk against his mouth, tilting your head slightly. “You know, we do live together, sir” you tease, playfully pinching the tip of his nose.

“That’s a reminder in case you forgot,” he quips, nuzzling into the slope of your neck. His broad shoulders are curved over you from behind like a shield, throwing every organ in your body on high alert, your heart drumming violently.

He pulls back, and before you can react, he gives your ass a quick, cheeky smack that makes you jump. Your mouth drops open in surprise, but he just grins smugly, like he’s fully aware of what he’s done, and he’s proud of it.

“Hey!” you whimper, swatting at him, but there’s no denying your pulse thumps fiercely.

“What?” he squeaks sheepishly, throwing his hands up in exasperation, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “You look too good to keep my hands off. Plus, guess who was stuck in my head the whole day. Hint—it’s not the burgers,” he fires back, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes comically, but your heartbeat is up now. There’s something about the way he’s staring down at you—like he’s hungry, and it’s not just for the takeout. You notice it when he leans in again, this time with a heat that wasn’t there a moment ago. His lips trace a line of open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your fingers twist around his shirt, gripping it, as his hands roam a little lower, tugging you closer until you can feel every ounce of him pressed against you.

“Speaking of burgers, if food’s your love language, then you’re speaking mine fluently,” you chuckle, but the second you catch the look Evan gives you—whoa, buddy. Food’s officially second on his menu. His eyes are a pair of flamed balls, fixed onto you like you’re the main course, dessert, and everything in between—like you’re the most appetising thing in the room.

And, let’s just say, he’s a lot more “warmed up” than usual. His kisses grow deeper, rougher, and the way he’s touching you are the real giveaway… The man’s practically simmering.

And oh, honey, you’re more than pleased to help him get away tonight. So, in your most casual, not-at-all-planned-in-your-head-already way, you decide tonight’s the night to put up a show… Literally.

You let your hands glide down his chest, feeling every erratic beat of his heart beneath his shirt. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” you murmur softly, your fingers dipping lower until you’re just hovering over his belt buckle, toying with the metal. “How about I pamper you tonight?”

You let your tongue slide over his upper lip, and damn if he doesn’t shudder. His eyes flash with thrill and curiosity—mixed with something darker, more primal. “Oh?” His voice comes out in this sexy rasp like he’s intrigued but still playing along, letting you lead for now.

You bite back a smug grin. Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.

With a playful wink, you step back, making sure to drag your hand across his chest one last time. “Sit tight, big boy,” you purr, backing away with just the right amount of sway in your hips. “This show’s just getting started.”

You saunter down the hallway, feeling his gaze burning a path down your back. You can feel your heart pounding as you head into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. The second it clicks shut, you lean against it for a second to catch your breath. The adrenaline makes your hands quiver a little as you rummage through the drawer.

There it is: that little black number you’ve been saving for a night just like this.

A lacy, black lingerie piece, sheer in all the right places, hugging curves like it was made for you. You shimmy it on, adjusting the straps, making sure everything’s sitting just so.

A quick glance in the mirror as you set your hair free from the bun—tousled, sexy-but-effortless vibe, check. The lace hints at more than it conceals, and your lips curl into a slow smile. Oh, yeah, he’s done for. You toss on a silky robe, leaving it untied, the lace peeking through just enough to give him a preview. A little fragrance spritz and a light touch of your lipstick, and you’re sorted.

When you open the door and walk back into the living room, you find him perched on the couch, his eyes snapping to you like magnets, intense and feral, as you come into view. His posture is stiff, knuckles blanched as they grip the cushions like he’s holding on for dear life. His pupils, wide and black with want, devouring the sight of you as if you are something forbidden, yet irresistible.

His gaze lingers, darkening when it catches on the soft peek of skin where your robe parts. He swallows hard, audibly, and when you let the silky fabric slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet, his jaw clenches—hard (hint: and not just his jaw).

The low light of the room encases you as it casts a sensual glow over the room, deepening the shadows and sharpening the tension between you two like a blade.

“F-fuck,” he wheezes, like the breath’s been knocked clean and shallow out of him. He tries to maintain some semblance of self-control, but the sharp despair in his voice betrays him. He sinks deeper into the couch, spreading his legs slightly, shooting you this look that’s pure, unfiltered desire as he drinks you in.

You want to torture him, enjoying how his gaze rakes over every inch of you, so you slowly strut over to him. Each step is deliberate, your hips swinging in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that’s nothing short of tempting. His composure slips just a little more—a twitch in his jaw, a harsh swallow, the way his chest rises and falls, faster with every second. His eyes flick down to the curves, then back up to your scandalous tits before snapping back to your face.

The heat from his body radiates into yours as you come to a stop, your thighs rubbing against his knees, and his hands instinctively move to grab your waist. But you’re not giving in that easily. “Uh-uh,” you purr, wagging a teasing finger at him, your lips forming a sly smile.

His fingers freeze, but his eyes burn with frustration as you stretch, purposely slow, letting your ass hover just above his lap. The unmistakable press of his hardness through his jeans sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can’t help but smirk. “I’m in charge tonight, remember?”

Evan lets out a furious groan, his head falling back defeated against the cushions, hands flexing in silent restraint. The power you hold over him tonight? Oh, it’s delicious, addictive. You throw him one last, seductive glance before turning around, giving him the full view of your barely-there lingerie—delicate straps criss-crossing down your back and framing your ass like a gift he’s dying to unwrap.

You hear as a muttered curse slips past his lips, low and guttural. He’s so close to breaking, and you haven’t even actually started yet. You scroll through your phone’s playlist, cueing up the perfect song for the occasion. The room is soon filled with the slow, sultry beats of Beyoncé’s ‘Dance For You,’ wrapping around both of you like a spell. You start slow, letting the music guide your hips, rolling in hypnotic circles.

You saunter towards a nearby chair, aka your prop, bending over it as your body flows like liquid heat to the beat. His eyes religiously follow every motion, waiting, his breathing growing heavier like he’s holding on a thread with every flick of your hips, every arch of your spine.

You roam your fingers up my body, teasingly stopping at your hips before dragging them higher, skimming over your breasts. With agonising slowness, you untie your bra, holding his attention and eye contact hostage. The second the lace slips off your body, you toss it in his direction with a devilish grin. He catches it with a hungry grunt, burying his face in the fabric like a man possessed, his smirk turning malicious as he inhales deeply.

“God, you’re killing me,” he groans, eyes exploding with thirst for you. The sight of him, chest heaving, lips slightly parted—oh, it’s so sadistically satisfying.

You’re gonna make him beg for it.

Leaning forward, just enough for your bare breasts to graze his chest, you bring your lips up to his ear, hot breath fanning the side of his face, “Good,” voice dripping with a promise for more. You pull back just a fraction, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m just getting started.”

You circle behind him, and he twists his head, tracking your every move, but you’re not finished (no pun intended).

“Please, Y/N. Come sit on my lap, or my face…just—” His voice breaks, raw and pleading, his body squirming as he shifts, desperate for release. The power thrumming through your veins is out of this world, and you bite your bottom lip knowing you’ve got him right on the edge.

You start with the lightest touch, dragging your fingers over the hard lines of his shoulders, tracing down the sculpted muscles of his chest, feeling the shudder that runs through him as you slide lower. Your fingers brush over the taut muscles of his thighs.

His stiff length twitches beneath your touch, his growl of desire low and animalistic. His hands stretch again, desperate to reach for you, but you chuckle softly, knowing he’s at your mercy tonight. His usual command is gone, flipped on its head, and that hunger in his eyes tells you he’s loving every second of it.

The music pulses through the room as you circle back around to him. You bend low, your curves on full display, just close enough for him to grab a handful of your ass with an eager groan that rumbles through his chest. He finally pulls you into him, lips attacking your skin, trailing down your spine with feverish kisses as he peels your thong off. His breath brushes against your slit and clit as he descends, his lips so dangerously close it sends your body humming with desire.

He can smell your fertility; the pheromones emitting from your body intensify his animal instinct to breed. His breathing is erratic now, his body practically vibrating with need to take you, but you still “hold the leash.”

He breaths come out in heavy bursts as he watches you straddle him, knees planted on either side of his hips. You grind down slowly, feeling the friction as you move in slow, sensual circles. His hands latch onto your thighs, his grip harsh and desperate, leaving marks that make your skin tingle. But still, you don’t let him seize control. Not yet.

Leaning in, you pepper steamy kisses along his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your lips, your teeth tracing the sharp edge of his jawline. You tenderly bite at his earlobe, and he growls lowly, his hands spasming with despair to grab you, but even then, you won’t allow him to touch you the way he wants.

“The more you resist, the harder I’ll fuck you,” he warns with a hiss, his voice dark. It’s a threat and a vow all rolled into one that sends a heat pooling between your thighs.

“Perfect,” you retort in a hushed whisper against the shell of his ear, lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth—teasing but not quite giving in. “That’s the idea, baby.”

You’re serving cunt, and he knows it well.

With a slow, calculated slide, you lower yourself down his body, your hands stripping him of his blazer as you go. You let your hands trace over his thighs and the hardened, erected mound in between. Kneeling between his legs, you lock eyes with him, watching the way his breath stutters, anticipation swirling in the air. Slowly, you unbuckle his belt, your fingers stroking his length just enough to drive him nuts as he lets out a shaky gasp.

You pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper with your teeth. The second you free him from the tight confines of denim, his aching cock springs out, pulsing with raw desire for you, the fabric of his boxers barely able to contain him.

You glance up at him again with a smug smile before leaning down, your lips brushing along his head. His hips buck instinctively, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. But you take your time, taunting him with light flicks of your tongue.

Finally, you wrap your lips around him, licking his sensitive red tip with the end of your tongue. You swirl it around and lap up the shiny little pearls of precum that keep seeping out in his pent-up arousal. “F-fuuuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me blow in a sec,” he grunts out with a hitched voice as you take his whole size in your mouth.

Your eyes flash up at him, filled with mischief as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to fit his full size. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, your voice on a seductive octave. “I want you to cum hard... fucking hard all over me.”

Your fingers trace the thick vein along the underside of his shaft before squeezing his hardness and pumping with a fast and firm tempo. Your hand works in sync with your mouth as you suck the upper half of his delicious cock, pulling him in and out, each movement making him gasp and buckle uncontrollably.

His head falls back, eyes screwed shut, muscles tensing. Some inaudible drabble slips off him as he thrusts into your mouth. Pools of saliva are pouring out of the edges of your lips, your eyebrows knitted together as you keep gagging at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You push further, your lips tight around him as you meet his gaze once more, your eyes wild with intensity. His fingers weave into your hair, but he doesn’t force you—he doesn’t have to. You’re in the saddle tonight, guiding him closer to his magical release.

Your hand reaches for his, fingers intertwining as your head bobs up and down on him, earning little moans of delight from his chest. He’s a hot mess; trembling under the weight of the pleasure you’re generously giving him as you slide your mouth down his dick, your cheeks hollowed in a blend of sensual sucks and frantic pumps.

The sound of you gagging, the wet slurp of your lips, and the way you glance up at him so innocently, brow furrowed with effort, has him reeling. “Ahh, yeah, keep going,” he breathes out, biting his bottom lip.

He gets a good yet gentle grasp of your hair, thrusting into your mouth in shallow, desperate strokes, but you maintain control, building him up slowly, methodically. He adores your lips, especially the way they loop around his dick and release these mewling sounds against it.

But now, his whole body is shuddering, his cock jerking inside, and you can feel the tell-tale sign he’s about to bust his load in your mouth. The blood rushes to his dick, draining any sane thought and cell in his brain, leaving him driven only by his primal instinct and craving for climax.

You slide onto his throbbing cock once more, gobbling on it like the insatiable whore you are. He presses your head down and keeps you there for a few seconds. As you detach from his member to draw a breath, his body immediately locks up, his abs contracting, and then—he’s there.

His head snaps back as he erupts shivering whimpers of your name, painting your face with copious amounts of his thick, white, and deliciously salty cum, his release spilling over your lips.

You open your mouth, tongue stretched out, catching the last drops as you pump him, milking every ounce of his release. His cum drips down your chin, and you let your fingers swipe off the remnants from your face, licking them off slowly, savouring the taste. Nothing goes to waste as you look up at him, lips wet, cheeks flushed with the aftermath of his orgasm.

“You’re one hungry bitch, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice strained, still shaky from the intensity of his high. He laughs weakly, dragging his thumb across your cheek with a tender caress, though his hard-on still convulses, not quite ready to soften. He winces as he tries to adjust himself, zipping up his jeans with difficulty, but the look of satisfaction on his face is unmistakable.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, licking your lips as you flash him a sly, knowing smirk. His chest rises and falls heavily, his face reddish, eyes droopy, still lost in the haze of afterglow.

Without wavering your eyes from him, you crawl up and climb to his lap, feeling your pussy drip with every inch of his skin that presses against you. He ogles your naked torso like a dog drooling over the bone. You position yourself just right, his semi-clothed swollen tip nudging against your slippery entrance.

“I am hungry for you, baby,” you purr with a pout as your fingertips draw lazy circles over the ridges of his abs. His eyes darken, filled with a renewed lust as he watches you, licking his lips like a predator eyeing its prey.

Letting out a dark, throaty chuckle, he wastes no time—he hammers his lips against yours, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth and kissing you with reckless abandon. His hands greedily paw at your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them just hard enough to make you moan against his lips.

The arousal between you is electric as your body grinds against his, the friction sending sparks flying through you both; it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you are about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

His hands hook around your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp in pleasure, the sound echoing through the room. You press your lips harder against his with a mewl, tongues tangling.

“Evan,” you hush out between sloppy kisses, barely coherent amidst loud teeth smacking and clashing together. All thanks to his fingers dipping between your legs, teasing your clit with maddening eights as he grins victoriously, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you.

“My slut’s ready for me?” he hums, giving your ass another smack, the sound of flesh against flesh making you quiver with delight. Your hips swerve on his raging boner, the body-against-body friction igniting an ever-powerful spark within you both. To say you’re a ‘mere’ tease for him is an understatement.

“You’re doing so good, my baby girl,” he gruffs, and his rough, veiny hands glide possessively toward your rocking waist as you begin to rub yourself against his thigh, slowly... teasingly. Every roll of your hips has him biting his lip, his eyes glued to the way your body moves against him.

“You’re in night care, baby boy, remember?” you hush, your voice laced with dominance as you lift your hips, fingers deftly undoing his trousers again. Your hand wraps around his cock, positioning him at your slick slit. Slowly, achingly slow, you sink down onto him, inch by inch. The stretch forces a moaning gasp out of you as your body adjusts to accommodate his size. Fiery electricity surges through you both, and he hisses watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock.

His hands tighten on your hips as you take him deeper, your nails digging into his biceps when he bottoms out, filling you completely. The fullness makes you shudder, your breath leaving you in a jagged burst as his tip presses snugly against your cervix. The deep groan that escapes his throat vibrates through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily, his hips stilling cautiously.

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, languid circles, setting a rhythm that’s equal parts torture and bliss for both. His hands grip you harder, leaving faint red imprints on your flushed flesh, but he doesn’t push or pull—he’s letting you have the upper hand in riding him, his eyes dark and hungry as he admires you, mouth parted. The way he’s looking at you though? Like you’re a goddess descending from the heavens just for him. Oh, that does something to you.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking gorgeous, taking me like that,” he murmurs, pride and desire dripping from every word. A crooked smile is etched on his face hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds as they cling to his cock. Every thrust, every grind, every little whimper from your lips makes his large member throb inside you, stretching you deliciously as you plop up and down on him.

You lean down, sealing your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss, your tongues twirling in a messy dance. It’s all teeth and moans again as he hits that sweet spot deep inside. It’s the type of kiss that makes time stop, like nothing else exists except for the raw, primitive connection between you two.

His hands trail up your bare back, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping you close as you grind down harder. Your bodies move in sync, perfectly attuned to each other, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you with every movement. His eyes dart down to your bouncing breasts and toned stomach, but you quickly grab his jaw, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Nu-uh,” you whisper against his lips, your voice tinged with authority. “Eyes on mine, boy.”

He lets off a hearty chuckle, even going so far as to wriggle your ass back against him. “You feel so damn amazing, baby,” he huffs, voice rough with desire, talking over your whiny babbles. He cranes his neck to kiss the edge of your jaw before tenderly nipping at the skin.

Panting heavily, you exhale, “I could do this all night.” Your hips move faster, sliding up and down his thick length, the friction sending bolts of euphoria through you. His breathing grows ragged, and you can feel the tension rising, winding tighter and tighter. You’re so soft—sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

He lets out a low groan, barely holding himself together as your walls squeeze around him. “Thaaat’s it, hngh. This pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen, realising the shift in dynamic—he’s reclaimed control, already winning ground, sis. Before you know it, his plumpish tip drills further between each corner of your dripping cunt. Your small sobs amplify as he starts to move beneath you, his hips thrusting up harder, making your entire body quake with each deep pound.

“I love fucking you so much,” he grunts, nearly whining, his head tilting back as his cock jerks inside you.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Evan’s grip tightens on your hips. With one fluid motion, he lifts you off him, his arms hook beneath your thighs. You gasp, caught off guard, your body hanging in his grasp as he stands up, practically growling with primal need.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, sending a bolt of excitement straight down your spine.

Without hesitation, he spins you around, carrying you across the room, your legs instinctively bundling around his waist. You’re in such a sweet, sexual brain fog that it takes you a second to get what’s going on. With one swift movement, he sweeps his arm across the dining table, sending glasses, cutlery, and whatever else is there crashing to the floor in a chaotic symphony of clatters.

“Evan!” You giggle dazedly, hands clasping on his shoulders as he sets you down on the table, the cold wood against your back making you shiver—but not nearly as much as the fire blazing in his eyes.

He leans over you and shushes you with a kiss, his lips brushing against yours as he pushes your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You don’t have time to argue—not that you want to. He grabs your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the table, his body wedged firmly between your legs. There’s no remorse in his eyes—just pure, animalistic desire. One hand snakes under your ass, the other glides down your left thigh, lifting it effortlessly over his broad shoulder. The way he leans down and looks at you now, almost in slow motion... gosh. It’s like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed… like nothing else matters but taking you right here, right now, and it sets your entire body on fire.

He wants to smash, and he’ll get it.

The scent of your cunt is intoxicating, stirring every primal instinct inside Evan that he knows he must keep in check. He draws his hips back slowly, only his tip nestling inside you, then jams just once inside you. Your whole body jumps at the impact, your pleading eyes boring deep into his, a breathy hum punched out of you. He pulls back and slams forward again, growling through his teeth. Your pillowy walls are cuddling him, his heavy balls aching to be drained, eager to breed the fertile womb his tip is wedged against.

His hands roam up your thighs, grasping you like he can’t get enough. With each slow, deliberate stroke, he sinks deeper into you, your body arching off the table in response. The sensation of him rutting in and out of your sobbing sex is overwhelming—every movement has your breath hitching, your fingers clutching the edge of the table, desperate for some kind of anchor.

Your orgasm is building again, fast and intense. As the pressure inside you give way to climax, tears cascade down your burning cheeks, your features contorted in ecstasy.

“E-Evan, I can’t take it! T-too much!”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Say please, baby,” he grits out, his voice low and commanding. His hips thrust into yours harder, making you lose all sense of logic. Your mind is blank, mouth hanging open, unable to form words as the pleasure consumes you.

“P-please,” a pained mewl tumbles out of you, and that single word tips him off the edge. His hips stutter, and with a series of deep thrusts along with a carnal chant of “ah, ah, ah, ah” pouring from his lips, he gushes inside you—creamy gooey ropes of cum dribble into you, not missing at all.

He’s panting heavily, hips jerking involuntarily as he empties himself, filling you to the brim with thick, sticky cum.

His groans of satisfaction blend with your breathy moans as you cling to him, feeling his weight stick against your skin like it’s adhesive. You bite into the soft skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers as he continues to thrust lazily, drawing out every last bit of his orgasm.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and raspy, each word filled with the same raw desire that’s coursing through your veins. “I wanna feel you.”

That’s it—the words, the intensity, the feeling of him completely owning your body, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin—have you on a chokehold. You suck in lungfuls of air as the incoming pangs of orgasmic waves smash over you with impossible force. You can’t hold back the loud moans spilling from your lips, your body arching up and writhing beneath him as you come hard, your walls spasming around his cock.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand gently stroking your cheek, his breath hot against your lips. Your body convulses uncontrollably in his arms as he rides out your climax with you, his cock still throbbing inside your over-sensitive core.

As you come down, your breaths laboured and uneven, he buries his head to your chest, his mouth warm against your skin as his kisses travel down to your boobs, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. Each subtle touch sends aftershocks of pleasure through you, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

You huff, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “You’re a menace, you know that?” you whisper, still trying to catch your breath. But he’s not done yet. You giggle softly as he moves lower, planting tingly smoochies to your skin, his breath like a warm breeze against your thighs.

“You smell like honey… I wanna taste you,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the soft curve of your inner thigh. His fingers part your sloping folds, spreading you open for him as he watches the glistening cum leak from your swollen pussy. His primitive need to eat you up tests his sense of control.

His tongue plunges between your labia, stretching them up with a slow and deliberate lick. Your thighs quiver around his head in the aftershocks of your climax, straining moans and semi-shrieks falling from your lips as his tongue dives deeper between your folds. The wet sound of him slurping up the mix of your juices and his cum is obscene, but it only drives you wilder, especially as he mumbles the moto, “Y/N... Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Your fingers lace in his drenched thick, curly brown locks, holding him in place. The untamed animal inside him is finally sated, fed well at the meal between your thighs. His teeth sink ever-so-lightly into the plump pout of your lips, and you can’t stop the desperate little wails flipping from your throat.

Your eager pussy can’t help but drool. Streams of your slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers. With a rosy flat tongue, he pads and licks you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers in—only to push them right back out. As he re-enters, he pokes against your g-spot again, and again, and again…

That’s all it takes for the sharp twisting coil to snap within you for the second time, and your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp. “Fuck, fuck,” you choke out, your breath coming in hollow bursts as you feel his hushed praises and loving words ghost against your clit. You can’t stay still for the life of you—it’s as if every muscle in your body rips apart once you come into his mouth, your jaw slackened and your eyes widened.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and Evan’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

You’re making a mess out of him, and he’s still eating it up—the dedication. His chin got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your slick running down. With an echoing pop, he slides his fingers off your pussy, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. The shaking from your multiple orgasmic release keeps on, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

“Mmph, Y/N. So beautiful,” he cries out, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses a kiss to your swollen, sensitive lips. Your sweet slickness smears against his stubble even more, but he couldn’t care less. All that matters is you, lying there beneath him, glowing with the outcome of your pleasure.

Evan’s gaze lingers on you for a long moment, his chest still heaving as he melts in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, thoroughly wrecked from the intensity of what just happened. His hand gently strokes your thigh, trailing up and down in soothing circles as the both of you come down from the high together.

Propping your weight on your elbows, you stare down on him, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips. You pull him up for a sloppy, rough kiss. Your fingers pinch on his well-defined jaw as he rests on top of her. You can feel his stiff length press against her stomach, and it feels great.

You reach up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “You really know how to leave a girl breathless,” you mumble teasingly, though your voice is barely above a whisper, still catching.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, and you giggle softly, the sound light and airy.

You lay there for a while, the after-sex haze still buzzing through your veins. Evan’s sprawled out on the sofa, shirtless. His hair is all tousled, looking like some kind of model from a cologne ad—except sexier, and definitely more accessible. You watch him, feeling a dopey grin spread across your face. This man… God, this man.

You pull yourself up, snuggling into that familiar blue blanket from the edge of the couch—the one you always steal when it’s movie night, or when you’re feeling cosy after a particularly intense workout (aka “fuck time”).

“You look like a smurf burrito,” Evan quips, his hand lazily draped across his abs as he watches you pace around the room.

You snort, cuddling deeper into the blanket. “Better than looking like a sweaty, shirtless disaster.” You throw him a wink and a brow waggle, but honestly, the view is prime real estate right now. That man should charge admission.

He smirks smugly, running a hand through his messy curls. “Sweaty, shirtless disaster, huh? I was under the impression you were enjoying said disaster inside you just a few minutes ago.”

“Touché,” you giggle as you flop down the sofa, letting your head fall back against the armrest. “But the jury’s still out on whether I enjoyed it or tolerated it.”

“Oh, is that so?” His eyebrow quirks, and that playful gleam you love so much flickers back in his eyes. He leans forward, crawling towards you on the sofa with that predator-like grace, his hands landing on either side of your bundled-up self.

“Maybe.” You bite your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but your heart's already doing flips at the way he’s looking at you. Damn, those eyes.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I should just—” Evan dips down, his lips grazing your ribcage, making you gasp. You wriggle away playfully, pulling the blanket up higher as if it’s some kind of armour.

“Okay, okay! I loved it. Five stars on Yelp, glowing review and a side of fries.” You’re laughing now, barely able to keep up the act.

Evan chuckles triumphantly, that warm, rumbling sound that makes your pulse leap in your throat. “Five stars? Well, that must make me the Michelin Man of love.”

“Please,” you laugh, “the only thing you’re qualifying for is most likely to be found with a pizza slice in hand.”

His grin widens, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, speaking of pizza, how about we start planning our wedding menu? I’m thinking pepperoni and extra cheese for the wedding cake. You know, something to make the guests feel like they’re in a pizzeria.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at his ridiculousness. “So, pizza-themed wedding, huh? What are we going to serve? Breadsticks as the bouquet?”

“Absolutely! And the best part? I’ll have a pepperoni ring!” He starts mimicking a ring toss, and you can’t help but crack up.

“Oh wow, my future husband is a real romantic,” you say, shaking your head in mock disbelief.

But then Evan leans in closer, his expression turning serious, and you feel the air shift. “But really, I want to make sure I don’t just slice into this whole ‘life together’ thing. I want to do it right. So, how about we order that wedding cake now because…” He reaches into his pocket, and your heart skips a beat as he pulls out a small velvet box.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion as you sit up. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of prank”

“Well, not exactly a prank. Unless you think proposing is some kind of joke.”

Your heart stops.

“What?” The word barely squeaks out, and you’re pretty sure your brain just exploded. Did he—did he just say proposing?

Evan’s mouth pulls into this soft smile, and before you know it, he’s dropping to one knee on the sofa. “I mean, I’ve got the ring and all that the protocol requires,” he mutters and your eyes bulge, mouth agape. “...and I don’t want to waste another minute from making you my wife!”

Your heart stops.

You leap up from the sofa, shaky hands flying to your mouth, shock flooding your system. The blanket almost slips off, eyes wide and heart pounding like you’re on the world’s most chaotic and steepest rollercoaster. Did he—did he also just say wife? “Are you serious?”

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice a little shaky but full of that Evan confidence that always makes you feel like the only person in the room, ��I’ve been through a lot lately. We both have. But the one constant through it all—through the tough days and the good ones, the sleepless nights and the mornings I wake up next to you—is that I want every single day to be with you.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this.

“From the moment I saw you in that club, I never looked away. We started off with a bang, quite literally, but I’ve felt like I’ve known you my whole life and won the love lottery. You’re my jackpot. The reason I smile—even when I feel like I’ve hit every bump on the road. You make even the ordinary feel extraordinary, and I want to make this last forever.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this. Your pulse hammers so loud you swear he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“So here I am, making it official, ready to take a gamble on the biggest bet of my life. Will you marry me and make me the luckiest man on the planet?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a subtle and stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart throbs so hard, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest.

“You drive me crazy in the best way possible. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, my favourite person to order burgers with. I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh, making you mad, and maybe every now and then... sweeping plates off the table to get to you faster.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling.

“Evan!” you gasp, half-laughing through your tears, remembering the chaos from a few minutes ago.

He chuckles heartily, but there’s something so tender in his expression now. “So, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a simple yet stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“Yes!” you shout, your voice breaking with joy as you toss the blanket aside and fling yourself into his arms, knocking him backward onto the sofa. He laughs as you straddle his waist, hugging him tight, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him hard, your heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might burst.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, smiling up at you as you kiss him again, both of you tangled in this beautiful, overwhelming moment.

He slips the ring onto your finger, and you hold your hand up, marvelling at how perfectly it fits—how perfectly it all fits.

And as you both lie there, wrapped up in each other and the ridiculousness of the moment, Evan chuckles. “So, Smurf burrito, looks like you’re stuck with me for life.”

You laugh, smothering his face with smoochies of aggressive cuteness magnitude. “Lucky me. Now... about those burgers? I’m still hungry.”

Evan grins, pulling you closer. “First, how about I show you just how well I can speak your love language?”

“Burgers first, then more disaster sex,” you tease, giggling as he tries to tickle you.

“Deal,” he whispers, stealing another kiss, because honestly, in this moment, you’re the best thing on the menu.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling, @babymazz

Announcement

This might not be a forever goodbye, and who knows, a spinoff of this series might pop up someday, but this is going to be the final part, y’all. I’ll admit, I sometimes feel like I’m navigating through a tiny room with towering walls in this digital space; like my creative expression is being restricted and policed, and I cannot fully communicate or channel my “writing persona,” if you will, in here. Still, every bit of your love and support has made it worth it. I’ve poured so much into this world, and Evan, well… he’s been an incredible muse through it all. So, thanks a bunch, truly. xx

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cat3ch1sm · 11 months ago

Note

Alright so I have a HUGE thing for Silva and Zeno to the point where I’d be delighted to have them step on me and call me worthless 😩💖

So would you have the time and energy to write some headcanons on how Killua would react if a friend of his (aka female reader) were to nonchalantly comment about how his dad and grandpa are hot?

I wanna ruin this gremlin’s mind so much please! <3

OMG if you want to, would you be willing to make Killua’s friend comment that to him but IN FRONT of Silva and Zeno too???

💚~ LMFAOAOAO u guys request the most chaotic shit and im totally here for it. here’s ur request!! merry Christmas guys ily <33 @cocogum

also i can definitely relate

fem!reader

u and killua have been friends for a while. literally probably the most chaotic pair anyone’s ever seen. just constantly doing stupid reckless borderline deadly shit. u are one of the very few who can always keep up with killua and can tolerate the same shit he does

he’s the friend who is always risking his life with the things he does and ur the friend who is always risking their life with the things you say. you have zero filter basically. and he really does not care at all, tbh he thinks you’re hilarious

anyway that’s why killua really has no problem bringing u over to his house. he’s never done it before, but you two aren’t the type to make a big deal of things like that, so whatever he just decides to drop by with u

you’ve never met his parents or siblings, but killua has never been lacking on his descriptions of them. whenever you ask he always makes it a point to tell you how nuts they are. but he sort of knows you can handle it even tho his family doesn’t like that he has friends in the first place, but tbh he doesn’t care much atp

anyway he brings you to his place and you go through the whole shebang of the super heavy doors and getting past mike but basically you two are good to go. the butlers welcome you both in and that’s that

you actually do meet his family who are about as off putting as you expected. his little brother kalluto is the tamest; he acknowledges you with a barely perceptible nod and that’s that. killua doesn’t bother introducing u to milluki and thankfully illumi and kikyo aren’t in the house right now. however, you both do run into silva and zeno.

the piercing glares they give you should be enough to freeze you in your tracks. there’s obviously an aura of dread that comes with their presence that killua had vaguely warned you about. but something honestly catches your eye about them, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth to hide the mischievous smile spreading across your lips. but to your surprise, the two men don’t even come over and bother to speak to you. they just give you disdainful looks and go on their way. looks like you aren’t really worth their time.

but as the two are walking away and you and killua start to head out, you turn and whisper to killua in a voice you very soon discover wasn’t actually a whisper, “wait, kil, your dad and grandpa are kinda hot.”

needless to say, this is the one time killua doesn’t find your lack of filter funny. his blue eyes instantly fly open and he yanks you aside, hissing, “why the fuck-“

that’s all he manages to get out. the zoldyck men have stopped in their tracks. your eyes widen as well and you clap a hand over your mouth.

“oh my fucking god-“ killua doesn’t even turn around to see his father and grandfather, he just yanks you along with him as he basically teleports out of the house. you don’t even have time to process his reaction before you both are suddenly far away from the zoldyck mansion.

you both pause once you’re out of earshot, exchanging wide-eyed looks before you collapse into giggles in the grass and killua slaps both hands against his face. “are you actually out of your fucking mind- never mind, you actually fucking are. what the hell is wrong with you??”

you’re way too busy laughing to answer, pointing at killua’s totally red face. he hides it behind his hands with a loud, exasperated groan.

“i’m going to puke. i’m going to throw the fuck up all over you, you asshole. take that shit back literally right now. oh my god. i’m going to kill you and then myself, you absolute dumbass.”

this goes on for at least ten minutes. you’re basically wheezing at this point, and you don’t stop until killua threatens to leave you behind.

“i am never taking you to my house again, you psychopath. like, i know you have shitty ass taste in guys, but are you serious?? you’re mental. actually insane. seriously?? no, take that shit back, my dad and grandpa are not hot.”

you start to walk away, still laughing, and killua is hot on your heels.

“where the hell are you going?! take that back right now, or i swear to god-“

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #hunter x hunter #reader x killua zoldyck #killua x you #reader x killua #killua zoldyck x reader #killua hc #killua headcanons #killua x reader #killua hxh #killua zoldyck x you

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xtrashmammalstefx · 1 month ago

Note

Hi Stef. Regarding your requests, I would love some Austin x Reader fics where he falls for a Latina who's liked him for a long time and finally acknowledges her after revealing to him that she hasn't dated anyone because she's afraid to be heart broken.

Ask and you shall recieve...

Fire On Fire (An Austin Butler x Latina!Reader Smut!)

Warning: SMUT, CUSSING, THE WHOLE SHEBANG!

Notes: I will include translations either near the Spanish text or at the bottom, so don't y'all worry about that. @12joeywheelerfangirl I hope you love it and sorry it took a while for me to post. I wasn't having luck coming up with ideas for this until I heard this song by Sam Smith and then it was just smutty fun from there.

I couldn’t fucking believe what I was hearing. “Wuh-what?”

“I said I like you,” Gavin said nervously. “And I wanna take you out sometime.” When I first met Gavin on Bumble I thought maybe, just maybe, I finally made another friend. Someone I could talk to, besides Austin. We’d hung out a couple times and things were going pretty well… then he dropped the ‘L’ word. I suddenly felt that all too familiar brick wall build up around me.

“Look you’re a great guy and all but…”

“But?”

“But I’m not looking for romance,” I said. At least not with you. I added silently. “I just wanted more friends to hang with, and talk to… I’m sorry if I made you think differently.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, but then he sighed and took out his phone.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Texting my buddy, Rich, to let him know I owe him a hundred bucks,” he said.

“Wait you betted on me?”

“Rich said you look like a prude but I said I could bed you within three dates,” he confessed. “Now thanks to you I’m out a hundred bucks… unless you wanna keep it casual?” He ran his hand along my thigh. I threw it away instantly.

“Fuck off!” I snapped at him feeling like I was gonna throw up my lunch. “God I thought you were different. But you’re just a sleeze bag like all the rest.”

His hand went flying across my face. A hot sting radiated through my cheek. Gavin was glaring at me now, and was suddenly hovering over me. “Please you think anyone else is gonna want you? Huh?? You ugly ass bi―!”

He was cut off by someone yanking him off of me. Austin stood there looking like he was gonna kill a motherfucker. Austin then reached back and swung his fist towards Gavin’s face. Gavin fell back. “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

“Someone who’s willing to do anything to keep Y/N safe now back the fuck up and get out!” Gavin smirked standing up.

“I get it you just wanted someone to play with while you fucked this piece of―!” Austin then grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the door.

“IF I CATCH YOU ANYWHERE NEAR Y/N I SWEAR IT’LL BE THE LAST FUCKING THING YOU DO!” Austin slammed the door and placed the locks in place. He then turned back to me and practically ran towards me. He sat down beside me on the sofa and wrapped his arms around me. “You okay baby?”

I nodded. “Estoy bien.”* Austin always had a way of making me comfortable enough to let my spanish out, even if he didn’t really understand me.

“The fuck was his problem anyway?” Austin asked drapping my legs over his lap.

“He asked me out,” I said. “And...and I said I didn’t want to…” Not with him. “Guess I dodged a bullet.”

“Yeah, yeah you did,” he said bringing his lips to my head. “You deserve better than that trash any day.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I sighed.

“Y/N,” he got an all too familiar tone to his voice. One that let me know I fucked up, again. “I thought you were doing better with this...I can’t believe you’re still talking crap about yourself. It’s been years. We’re not in high school anymore… what other people say and think don’t mean shit...but what you say and think about yourself...it means everything.”

“You’re right Aus, but is it really such a crime that I don’t want to risk having my heart shattered? Is it that bad that I just wanna avoid getting hurt like that again and again?” Tears were bursting from my eyes then.

“You can’t possibly know that would happen,” Austin said.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” I sniffed. “Lo se porque niguno de ellos son tu!”* I cried. “No puedo enamorame con otro cuando estoy enamorada contigo, y nomas contigo!”*

“Y/N you’re rambling again,” Austin said cupping my face with his hands. “Breathe a bit and start over sugar.” I did. I swallowed deep breath after deep breath until my heart and lungs calmed down enough for me to think clearly about what I was gonna say. I never told Austin my feelings before, even though they’ve been there since ninth grade. I was always too afraid of screwing up what we have...and I was still afraid then, so I said nothing.

Instead I did something far far worse… I leaned in and crashed my lips onto his. Austin’s hands left my face and for a second I thought my worst fear had finally come. But...then I felt his arms wrap around my waist. He pulled me close against his body and deepened our kiss.

As Austin continued to meld our mouths together I suddenly found myself laying back on the sofa, pulling him on top of me. Austin pulled back and smiled at me. “By the way, I love you too, sugar.”

“You...you understood me?” He nodded. “Wha-? Since when?”

“I been teaching myself, and asking your family for help ever since tenth grade. After that son of a bitch Kent started showing interest in you.” He reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingers. “I remember I wanted to rip his head off. I was so irritated all the time whenever he came near you. When he asked you to winter formal...I knew… I knew why I couldn’t stand even the idea of you and him. So at your families Christmas party that year, I asked your dad if he could start teaching me spanish. He told your mom, and suddenly I was surrounded by teachers. Even now they test me to see if I remember.” Austin laughed.

“You learned spanish for me? And mami and papi never said…”

“I asked them not to ‘cause I wanted it to be surprise,” he said. “And I wanted to be able to surprise you with certain words.”

“What?”

“Te amo, Y/N,”* he whispered. “Y…”* He sighed. “Sorry if I butcher this a bit. I haven’t been practicing as often as I used to.” He said. “Uh… Quiero pasar mi vida contigo.”*

It wasn’t perfect spanish but it was perfect enough for me.I reached up and tangled my fingers with his hair as I brought his face down to mine. It was fire on fire after that.

Austin rut against me as his tongue tangled with mine. After a while he pulled back and attached his lips to my neck. A moan escaped my lips as he kissed and sucked at my flesh. The feeling reverberated through me leading my hands to the buttons on his shirt. As my fingers worked down the shirt one of his hand snaked up and gently squeezed at my breast. When the last button popped open my hand ran up the skin of his abs, over his chest, and up to his shoulders to push the fabric from him. He pulled back and shrugged it off, tossing it to the floor. I lifted my arms and let him lift my shirt over my head. Once it was gone I sat up and brought my lips to his chest.

As I kissed and licked at his pecks, giving extra love to the skin above his heart, he reached behind me and unclasped my bra. “So fucking beautiful,” Austin muttered lustfully. I smirked and continued laying a trail of kisses on his body, stopping at just above the waistband of his pants. I unbuckled his belt as my mouth began to water at thought of what it held. I popped the button and pulled down the zipper almost impatiently. Austin stood up and pulled his pants down taking his boxer briefs with it. All that rutting he did clearly worked it’s magic for he sprang out hard and thicker than I thought he would be, smacking his belly.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his length. I tugged at him for a while before leaning in. I licked at the beads of precum on his tip and gave it a slight kiss before sliding him into my mouth. Austin trembled and let out a slight growled tangling his fingers in my hair while thrusting gently. As I sucked him off the most beautiful noises left his mouth, almost musical. I think he would’ve completely lost his mind had he not pushed me back.

“Your turn sugar,” he said huskily. He got down on his knees and reached to pulled my leggings down, taking my panties with them. He tossed them aside and brought my hips closer to the edge of the couch. He placed my legs over his shoulders, licked his already swelling lips, and leaned down.

A hiss left me as his lips connected with my core. In that moment as his tongue continued to lick and flick at my clit I couldn’t help but think: Is there anything he’s not mind-blowing at?! Moans escaped my lips that made Austin chuckle, his breath hitting me at my most sensative parts.

“Damn I fucking love those sounds you make,” he said. “Can’t wait to hear what comes when I’m inside you.”

He gave my clit one more kiss before he stood up. I readjusted, laying down once again. Austin laid down on top of me wrapping my legs around his waist. His tip ghosted at my entrance sending an ache through me. An ache that could only be cured one way.

As if reading my mind he reached down, placed his lip at my opening and slowly started to push in. As he stretched me bit by bit I clung to him, damn near digging my nails into his back. “Fuck!”

“You’re so tight baby,” he muttered. “Is… is this..?”

“Woulda thought that was obvious,” I said as he continued to push further in. “Never actually- gah fuck- dated anyone before this…”

He finally bottomed out then. “I’ll go slow for you. You just tell me when you want me to really get goin’.” I nodded and he started to thrust slowly and gently. It stung at first but as he continued to move inside me it started feel more and more remarkable. I started moaning again.

“Fuh-faster… I need you to go faster...and huh-harder.”

“Okay,” Austin kissed me once more. “Okay.”

He pulled back and slammed into me, a loud smack emanating from his balls hitting me. The feeling that replaced the sting only grew stronger...more fierce. “OH FUCK AUS!”

“You take me so well sugar,” he moaned taking my hand and placing it on my stomach. A bulge hit my palm repeatedly from inside. “See? I’m getting’ way in there.” He shifted slightly and hit me on a different spot, one that had me screaming. “Like it there? Like it when I fuck you right in that spot?”

“Y-YES, GOD, FUCK YES!” He continued to thrust into that spot which made the tension building in my middle grow more and more. My toes started to curl and my back started to arch. “God I’m gonna...I’m gonna.”

I let go not even a second later, covering him in my juices. Austin was more slippery now and was growing more erratic with his thrusting. “You came all over me darlin’,” he said. “Now I think it’s my turn to come all over you.”

He moaned louder and louder as he began shuttered on top of me.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so hard,” he groaned before pulling out and exploding all over me, covering me in his seed. He continued to moan as he tugged every last drop out of his body. He collapsed on top of me and kissed my swollen lips. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, both of us completely breathless.

Our fire continued to burn after that, with constant repeats of that moment (except in a bed, and with Austin finishing in and on different places) and Austin continued his spanish lessons with my family. The latest phrase he learned? “Casate conmigo?”*

I smiled and nodded crazily. He slipped on his mom’s engagement ring and kissed me hard. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” I said before deciding to give him my own spanish lesson. “By the way,” I brought my lips to his ear. “Estoy embarazada.”*

“What’s that mean?” He asked looking at me confused.

“Why don’t you ask papi to translate that… I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love what it means.” He did and our fire burned on.

TRANSLATION: *I'm fine.

*I know because none of them are you!

*I can't fall in love with someone else when I'm in love with you, and only you!

*I love you.

*And...

*I want to spend my life with you.

*Marry me?

*I'm pregnant.

#austin butler #smut #austin butler x reader #imagine

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bengiyo · 4 months ago

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Love Sea Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Mut and Rak went on a date to a nice restaurant for lunch and then to the grocery store. Mut was extremely charming, and then Rak's asshole cousin showed up at his house to start shit with him. Rak handed her her entire ass for her trouble, but then tried to buy a bunch of suits for Mut because he didn't want people to say rude things about Mut. Mut reminded him that he doesn't care about what others say before almost having sex with that man in a changing room. Meanwhile, Mook continued to fret about not being needed, and I'm glad Vie is into that.

Interesting. We're picking up from the mall. I don't mind the reassurance that they're okay after the last conversation, but Rak is still trying to buy things for Mut.

Chapter 6: Jealousy is a Sign of Love. OBJECTION!!!!!! I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS.

I like that Fort moves differently as Mut.

I love Mut sitting back and letting Rak unload all this grief and pain he's suffered about his family situation.

I am glad Mook is actually hanging out with some of her friends if she's been this attached to Rak the whole time.

Thankful again that some of the shows remember that they both have dicks.

I'm interested in Khom's perspective since there's a similar history here.

LOL why are these guys jealous at all? They're hanging out in front of Rak.

Interesting. I hope Connor wasn't trolling about having writers block sex with Rak.

All this jealousy is ridiculous.

Finally some Rak and Vie alone time.

Very amused that Rak is able to admit to Vie that he's feeling possessive of Mut and too stubborn to apologize.

Vie, do not use your acting ability this way.

A child!

Oh, this must be Rak's niece.

What is this royalty free music that sounds like The Ants Go Marching In?

Sometimes it feels like Mut takes this whole buying thing more seriously than I expected and it makes me wonder.

I love this child. She can stay.

On the real though, she seems to have a clear read on the adults in her life and I wonder what horrors she's had to process.

I really am trying to stay with this show since it seems to know what it's playing with. Even Meena knows the history with the grandfather.

Wow. My man asked for head earlier and would you look at that.

Whoa.... We never get face fucking in BL.

Whoa, Vie is part French.

BossNouel jump scare.

I've only had Meena for one episode, but I am now going to complain about how few nieces and nephews we get in BL. Who was the last one? Mork's nephew in My Ride? Also, what's up with them hiding Connor from us? I hope we get a strong resolution on this grandpa situation and the contract stuff. Even the kid knows this whole shebang is weird.

#Ben watches #love sea #love sea the series #thai bl #bl series

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kn-1013 · 1 month ago

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Travis Headcannons

I have a lot of ideas for the SF characters but a lot of these are things you can't really write a story about, so I'll just list my headcannons and see if people like them.

Travis is gay (duh) and has a crush on Sal. His type is "bad boys"; punks, greasers, goths, grunge guys, etc. Tattoos, piercings, dark clothing, ripped jeans, the whole shebang, and that's part of why Sal appeals to him.

He likes this kind of guy because to him, they represent a kind of freedom he can't have; they don't care about what anyone thinks and could confidently whisk him away from all his woes, or something like that. And, if they're known delinquents, he's got plausible deniability if they hit on him. "I'm not gay, this delinquent made me do things I definitely did not want to do and definitely hated!" etc etc

Maybe it's projection but to me, Travis seems like an incredibly specific kind of autistic person I've known throughout my life, where they were raised by a Christian family that refused to properly support them in any meaningful way, so I've claimed him for the autists now.

He has ARFID, mild dyspraxia and often wears a weighted vest underneath loose clothing. He likes the long-sleeved shirt and knee-length shorts combo the best. He has special interests in linguistics and plants/foraging.

The bologna was one of the only foods he could eat that didn't make him violently ill due to ARFID, and since finding out what was in it, he rarely eats meat anymore. Maybe fish, on a good day.

He's lactose intolerant, and makes almond milk at home for himself.

Being a near universally hated person, Travis doesn't have friends to hang out with. He often spends his time reading heavily or being outside by himself, since he doesn't particularly enjoy being at home. This is where his special interests come from.

Travis is a massive bookworm, and frequently speeds through novels with ease. He's also a very good writer himself, but he would never show anything he's written to anyone.

He is a classically trained pianist and has been playing piano for as long as he's been able to process what a piano is. He also plays the organ. He frequently plays both instruments for church services.

I like to think that Travis gets a job as a checker at a grocery store at some point, and saves up money to get himself his own place away from his father, but I can't decide if he should live alone or if he has a roommate.

Despite his father saying that music like this is somehow satanic or immoral, Travis really finds himself enjoying music that utilizes heavy beats and has a strong focus on rhythm and flow, such as rap and hiphop, house, trance, drum and bass, and jungle.

He kind of wishes he could be a DJ because of this, but pushes that dream aside because he knows that he has a responsibility to stop the Devourers first before he can do anything else.

Obviously he never gets that chance.

Hope these are interesting enough. I wanted to make him well-rounded with his own interests and hobbies separate from the SF gang while still remaining as true to his canon personality as I could.

#txt #headcannons #sally face #travis phelps

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badlydrawndavepeta · 25 days ago

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Trick or treat!

B33 < look i appurreciate the enthusiasm but its a little late for that

B33 < the cobwebs are falling down and this fake pumpkin is practically rotting

B33 < honestly surprised this thing didnt disappearify or get stolen

B33 < huh what

B33 < oh dont worry about the wing thats fake too

B33 < i had to get a genuine spirit hallow33n costume you know how it is

B33 < buy a shitty costume litter your house with candy and sodas have fun with friends you know the whole shebang

B33 < my whole night basically boils down to this

B33 < dont worry about it

#homestuck #badlydrawndavepeta #badlydrawnhomestuck #davepeta #davepetasprite #asks

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supermarketbae · 1 year ago

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Heyyy, I just found you and followed❤️ could I request a billy Hargrove x reader where they argue one night and so she goes and stays the night with Eddie and somehow billy finds out where she’s at and shows up in the middle of the night and is like fuck no she’s mine and then him and Eddie argue over her and whatever else you wanna add and end how you want ofc I’m just a sucker for jealous/ angry billy

Omgg!! Hello lovelyyyy! I appreciate the follow!! thanks so much for requesting!

anddddd i made a tiny ittyyy bitty tweak to this because I felt like a little bit of angst today (sorry in advance)

warnings: Jealous!Billy, billy thinks reader is cheating, yelling, slight* panic attack for Billy (idk not really but), fluff, angst, hurt comfort :)

Some Things, Will Never Change.

You were dreaming. You just had to be. In no universe would Billy just accuse you of cheating so blatantly. You thought you had gained his trust, but apparently, old habits die hard. "I can't believe you." Billy seethes pacing in the kitchen slamming the refrigerator door open. You winced, annoyed at the noise that echoed through the dim house, When you had got home from your summer job at the arcade, You decided to pay Billy a visit. You were starting to regret that decision. "Believe what." You spit out starting to get angry at the haughty tone he was using towards you. "You playing around." Billy says eyes narrowed. "Don't think I haven't seen you flirting with that FREAK Munson." Billy growls, throwing his soda can on the table. You sigh as it bursts, eyes following the trail of carmel liquid to the floor. "I wasn't flirting Billy, He came in searching for Max and her friends, he couldn't find them so he asked me." You grit.

"You know, asking like a sensible adult. Like you should be about this situation." You say eerily calm. Billy's anger lights up like a firework at the insult. "fuck off," he growls again. "Maybe if ya didn't parade yourself around I wouldn't have to worry." Your eyes widen at his vulgar sentence. "Shut up." Your mouth hangs open "William Hargrove, don't you dare act like you don't flirt with every single fucking girl in our fucking school. AND don't you fucking dare act like I don't fucking tolerate your dumbass shit." Your screaming now. Not one to back down from mistreatment from anyone, even your boyfriend. "Then for shit's sake leave if you don't like it!" Billy shouts at you seeing nothing but red. "Don't let the door hit you in your fucking ass on the way out either!" He roars as you grab your purse and slam the door hard on the way out.

Your tearing up slightly as you get in your car. Who knows how many miles above the speed limit your driving, but your route takes you to one of your closest friend's home, who also happens to be the cause of the argument... Eddie. Knocking on his trailer door you hear a drowsy "It's open" rouse from beyond the door. Eddie's honeyed eyes light up as you drag yourself in, but quickly dim noticing you're crying. "oh my god, sweetheart what's wrong?" you sniffle louder as he calls you the pet name Billy usually does. As he pulls you into his arms, you are reminded of how Billy's frame feels wrapped around yours, and you start bawling. The whole shebang. Complete waterworks in Eddie's arms while he tries to comfort you. "Billy-mfg-Billy hates m-me" You hiccup out.

Eddie smiles bitterly. "oh honey..." Eddie trails off not knowing what to say. "Can I just... stay here." You cut off his pitiful comfort attempt quickly, feeling like a burden already. Eddie fumbles on his words, scratching his head awkwardly as he nods "Shit-of course-uh-hell-I don't really have an extra bed or anything but I can uhm- sleep on the couch... yeah." You laugh softly at his ramble. "I'm not a princess Eddie," you sigh, "I can sleep on the couch it's fine, truly." you continue as you see a look of protest on his face. He shakes his head "I'm trying to be a gentleman here excuse you." Eddie grins boyishly, and you don't know why. It could be nerves. It could be the emotional buildup from tonight. But your heart leaps. swoons even. And with a sickening resolve, you realize Billy's argument had, unfortunately, made valid sense. However, shaking your head at the thought, you let Eddie drag you towards his room to pick out a movie to watch.

Eddie's company had proven beneficial to your mood. A mere hour into the movie and your mind was elsewhere, far away from the argument you had with Billy as you two joked about last school year, munching on various health deleterious snacks that were found in Eddie's fridge. "And then she had the AUDACITY to call me 'late for class' and told me that I had to retake the whole course!" Eddie yells in indignation as you clutch your sides from laughter. "You chose to come in through the window Eddie, what was she gonna do? tip her hat and say 'pip pip cheerio' while she was teaching about the American revolution?" You cackle as Eddie slumps back on the couch snickering. Your laughter cuts short as you hear the roar of an engine.

Billy's camaro.

You panic. How could you not. Here you were with the exact boy who had caused the argument. And you knew how Billy would react to such a turn of events. To put it lightly, violence would be involved. Before you can voice your fears however, Eddie's front door slams open. You try to scream as Billy in an angered blur hurls past you and starts throwing punches, tackling Eddie, who is cussing, to the floor. "STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HER YOU SON OF A BIT-" Billy is cut of when Eddie lands a hard punch to his gut, grimacing as he wipes his bloodied nose. "Dude!" Eddie barks "You're so full of it you don't even know what SHE'S FEELING!" Eddie spins on you pointing trying to reason with him. "I don't even want her like that man. She's your girlfriend dude so how 'bout you BLOODY listen to her feelings maybe then she wouldn't come to me dipshit!" Eddie swears once more as Billy charges at him "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he roars as he takes a winding swing. A sickening crack issues and Eddie falls to the floor holding his nose "Fucking shit Hargrove," Eddie pants from the ground.

You realize your crying when a sob lurches out of you. Hot, thick tears streaming down your face. God how you wished to be anywhere else in the world. far far far away. It's enough to take Billy out of his angered trance, as your breathing comes out in short pants. "leave him alone Billy. I'll come back with you. Hell I don't care, just stop hurting him." you say quietly turning to the door sighing. It hurt really. So much that you couldn't feel as you lurched your way to the car. As you opened the door to leave, you glance back at Billy who's staring wide eyed, almost a look of sickened fear on his face. His usual sun kissed complexion looked paled, and gaunt. "You don't deserve her Hargrove." Eddie's gravelly voice is the last thing you hear before you shut the door behind you and drive back to Billy's house.

You don't look to see If he follows you.

It's late. You knew that for sure. The sun didn't even seem to have set before you were engulfed in a night that matched your feelings. The rain was howling outside as you sat at the lamp lit table in a witchy town you wanted desperately to forget about. The only thing that was making noise in the house was the clock. The dull ticking was a comfort. A reminder to you that some things will never change.

A comfort. you remind yourself closing your eyes. Heaving in a breath you didn't know you were holding.

tick. tick. tick. tick.

It was those four seconds you would remember till the end times.

Those four seconds in which Billy came into the room, looked you in the eyes and then crumbled. Simply melted to the ground, back against the fridge. "I'm so sorry." he said simply. You show no sign of emotion as you are unchanging, and to be frank, unflattered.

As you stiffen.

he notices.

He takes into account that your usual happy, touchy, aura is gone. He realizes he's the one that caused this. He realizes that he could lose one of the only things he's loved. He realizes you could hate him. He realizes you probably do hate him. He realizes he might never feel truly loved again. He realizes that he will never love like this again. He realizes you have been one of the only people to truly care about him. He realizes he has told you his deepest secrets. He realizes how blank your usually love filled stare is. He realizes he hates himself for this. He realizes that it feels like his heart is being ripped out.

The last thing Billy realizes is that he's sobbing.

Crying harder than he's ever cried before. Crying so hard he's shaking. He can't breathe. Why would he want to anyway. Everything hurts. It hurts so so so so bad. He would rather suffocate than lose you. He's hiccuping and thinking of every single time he's done something wrong. It only worsens as he feels your hand rub on his back as you kiss his hair "Your okay my love, it's okay... you need to breathe for me darling... deep breaths." a hard shiver racks his body at your words.

"my love" you had said.

Billy doesn't believe you still love him.

"Please-I" Billy can't get the words out as his throat closes up, hoarse with pain and emotion. The pain increases as you pull him into your chest and he inhales your scent. It feels foreign and familiar all at once.

It feels foreign because he knows he might have to let you go.

"I-I- Don't deserve you- just- I'msorryI'msorry- I hate me so MUCH." Billy sobs into your chest. He flinches as he feels a tear run down his cheek. He's oh so vulnerable. Billy whimpers pathetically into your chest. He doesn't hear the sweet nothings you coo to him as you yourself let tears flow. He's broken. you both know it. There's nothing you can do about it except try to fix the boy in front of you.

And you are.

You're trying so hard to fit the puzzle pieces back together. Billy's breathing evens out as he notices he's not the one shaking anymore. It's you who is rocking him gently in your arms. His eyes flutter as your nails scratch gently at his scalp. "You deserve love Billy." his eyes roll slightly as he hears your honeyed voice. Your voice was addictive, he thought as the thoughts whirring in his brain start to slow. Billy is focusing on the steady beat of your heart. "Let me love you." Your sweet sensual drawl is back. Billy grimaces. Cringing at how much he feels for you right now. "You still love me?" His gravelly even voice startles you. It's deep, milky, and stoic. You would've never guessed he had even cried. "Always." You say pulling him closer to you.

"Forever." You ghost into the quiet room. A small whine graces Billy's parted lips at your words. You made him feel so good. "I love you." comes the deep reply. Billy is looking up at you. Icy darkened eyes concealed by his hooded eyelids. Your mind reels, you think you've forgotten how to breathe. You'd never get used to hearing that from him. It made your heart swell every time he would say it. every. single. time.

"I love you too." you say it full of meaning. It's like a promise. A promise to hold him for as long as he needs. A promise to be there when no one else is. A promise to simply love him. You don't think you could want to promise something more than this.

A calm, needed silence enters the room, as Billy tilts up his head to kiss you. You sigh into the kiss, wanting to get drunk on the feeling of his body against yours. The last thing you allow yourself to think about before you give in to the godly pleasure of Billy, Is the clock.

tick.tick.tick.tick.

Some things, will never change.

And you hoped to God, your love was one of them.

-----

a/n: IM SOSOSOOSOOSOSO sorry it took this long. first i had a performance to end my acting classes out and after that i had to take a mental health break. I really hope you enjoy!! thank you so much for requesting and reading my love <3

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x female!reader #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove angst #billy hargove smut #billy my beloved #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove fandom

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for hooking up with my ex-fiancée's friends

nsfw for obvious reasons. everyone involved is early to mid twenties

I was dating a girl for 4 years, we were engaged, planning to buy a house, had a wedding date and theme, the whole shebang.

Well, she had actually been spending the last 4 months of our relationship turning all our mutual friends against me, draining my bank account, talking with other people on dating apps, and generally ruining my life, which culminated in me coming home from work to find her, half our pets, her stuff, our stuff, and half my stuff gone from our apartment (along with a note from all our friends and multiple broken utilities).

Anyway it has been about 7 months and I have since cut my losses, gotten my life back together, and I've even started going on dates and hookups again. It was a bad relationship for numerous other reasons, so I'm counting this as a fresh start. Yay.

I was scrolling and saw her best friend (who was one of our mutual friends who I still miss hanging out with) Being an adult, I didn't match. I then got an alert I missed a potential match. I laugh about this and move on.

But here's where the AH part comes in. I find them on another app, along with some other members of that friend group. I match with them for a few reasons. 1) They have me blocked on everything, so I can't really text them any other way. 2) I do miss these people still. 3) Well, they tried to match first. 4) I am leaving this state soon and don't have to deal with any fallout.

Well, turns out I was apparently hot shit in this friend group bc I now have multiple hookups scheduled with different people in this group. They all know it's just a one-time thing. They do not care that I am sleeping with other people. I always use protection, and I regularly get tested.

But, like, these are her friends. And they're my old friends (though I plan to cut contact with them after this for the whole trashing my apartment and not believing me about the legit abuse I suffered thing)

So, AITA for sleeping with my ex-fiancée's friends?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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joonieskinks · 1 year ago

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drabble: “regret” - pjm

reader x cheater!jimin ft. jungkook | basically just pure angst | 1.5k

warnings: swearing, cheating, implication of seggsy times, substance abuse

a/n: if you want your heart to hurt?? I guess then enjoy?? lol

“Oh, sure! That would be so helpful...” You trail off, trying to balance your workbag, your keys and your phone in your hands while opening the door to your house with Jimin.

“What was that?” Jungkook, your best friend, asks through the phone.

“I said that would be helpful, yes, an intervention. Thank you for letting me know.” You bring the phone back up to your mouth, trying to communicate more effectively. You manage to plonk all your stuff down on the kitchen table before you really start to become aware of your surroundings and something unique catches your attention. It’s glistening, shiny reflection just catches the sun from the window across the room, hitting your eyes.

“Okay, I’ll get to planning then?” Jungkook wonders into the phone, but neglects to say anything after, awaiting for a response from you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook tries catching your attention, but you’re utterly distracted by the pair of shiny, pink heels that are tucked under the curtain near your front door.

“Yeah? Uh, hold on. Something more is going on. I’ll call you back in a bit, okay? Bye...” You mumble before hanging up. You could apologize later for being so blunt, but this was far more important as of right now. Jungkook would understand.

You didn’t recognize those shoes. Sure, you would have totally missed it if it weren't for the almost neon hot pink shoes sticking out from the flushed out curtain. Everything else seemed to be in place, besides Jimin’s shoes.. One by the door and one on the stairs- Oh please, no. Not again. Instantly your worst fears creep into your head. You don’t want them to, but you can help but harbour those doubts for good reason.

“Shhhh! Shit- I didn’t realize what time it is, you should go.” You hear a deep voice whisper-yelling upstairs. Jimin. You could recognize him anywhere. But what you didn’t recognize was the one that returned it.

“Jiminie!! You said we could have one more go!” The feminine voice playfully yelled, followed by more of Jimin shushing and then silence.

Your body felt frozen in place and you briefly shut your eyes.

No, please not again.

This was his one chance to redeem himself from the last time this happened. Yes, albeit it was just a kiss at a party a couple months ago. While he was drunk of course - but no excuse. You managed to take him to couple’s therapy and you felt comfortable to say you two were figuring it out. However, this time - you were very, very wrong.

He had cried, begged and proved himself to be trustworthy again, he had desired your trust back so very much, or at least you thought so. Perhaps not if you’re already accepting the fact that he could be cheating again before even seeing him, hearing him out. But no, this isn’t just a kiss, no, its the whole shebang. You can hear it, it’s like the doubt was already planted in your heart long ago, and now was just when the flower finally budded.

You creeped your way up the stairs, listening to the movements on your bed, the creaks in the mattress, sheets being pulled and skin touching skin. You paused, inhaled, gripped the doorknob and mentally prepared yourself for the worst-

At the sight of their bodies intertwined, you could only stare blankly, waiting for them to notice you. It took a couple seconds, but it was the woman who noticed first. Gasping, she jumped out of his arms and tried to madly cover herself up with your sheets. Your shared bedsheets. With Jimin. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, it was the man you once loved that you could only focus on.

“Y/N?” Jimin blinked in disbelief, the shock slowly settling into his system as he stares at you.

“I- I know what it looks like but-!”

“Goodbye, Jimin. I’ll come collect my stuff when you’re gone at work.” You utter, before turning your back and shutting the door behind you.

“Wait, Y/N! Please come back, we can fix this. I didn’t mean to, it just happened, she just happened! It doesn’t mean anything, come back here!” Jimin screams as he races to put on his underwear and catch you before you walk out the front door. Suddenly it looked as though he didn’t care about the woman he was fucking, your marriage or anything. Just controlling the narrative in this horrid state he’s in.

He wasn’t your love anymore. Surely not like this.

Jimin catches you as you gather your stuff and take a step out the door, his hand on your arm. At his touch, you instinctively move away and face him in surprise, but he holds on. The tears in your eyes finally fall, but you hold no expression, no indication of emotion.

Disappointment? Expectation? Acceptance? He couldn’t read you anymore.

But you saw right through him - your day-drinking, manipulative, neglecting, but gorgeous cheating husband.

And of course he was drunk. Just like your best friend Jungkook said he’d be when he told you to go home and check on him. Apparently, he’s been leaving work early and often, Jungkook has watched him leave several nights in row from the office early. At first he wanted to give his once close friend the benefit of the doubt, but he just couldn’t stomach hiding anything from you. Turns out Jungkook was right, the day-drinking part anyway, you could smell the vodka on Jimin’s breath. It seems he’s relapsed, it’s been a problem for a while, and an intervention was going to be made. Too late for that now, you guess. I don’t think anyone expected it to go this far.

Both of you turn to look as you hear a truck pulling up to your house. Jungkook simply rolls down the window and patiently watches his two best friends from childhood. He has a hand on the door handle, ready to come to your aid if need be. Jungkook chose his side long ago. You, and now he was just making it clear. That much was obvious to Jimin.

But with how you left him on the phone, of course he was going to check on you, he’d never leave you defenceless, even if it was inconvenient for him. Jungkook just couldn’t do that to you, especially not after how he’s seen Jimin treat you so poorly over the years.

Jimin’s face hardens as he looks at Jungkook, waiting for you to run to.

“Please. Y/N. Don’t leave me...” Jimin utters in pure desperation, tears still escaping his glazed over eyes, leaking down onto his cheeks. He doesn’t even look like the man you once adored so much, he’s lost so much of himself, and for what?

“You did this to yourself, Jimin. I don’t think I can forgive you this time.” You say as you try your hardest to remain composed in the face of his betrayal, all your vows going up in flames. You take his hand off your arm and walk away from your love, your husband, your marriage.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

It should have been him you married all those years ago - and you think exactly so as he offers you the gentlest, most compassionate smile as you get into his truck. He knows exactly how you feel before you can even open your mouth. And so, you just drive away together, in peace.

Leaving Jimin, seething with jealous anger for his now ex best friend.

She’s still mine, Jeon. She’s still mine.

You watch.

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sunny-knight · 7 days ago

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WE AINT MAKIN IT OUT OF THE ROOMMATE TORIEL NEUTRAL ENDINGS WITH THES ONES 😭😭😭

AUUUGH WHY DO AMVS HAVE TO TAKE SO LONG TO MAKE anywho,

casually obsessed with an actively grieving man who hides all of it deep within himself, staying with a woman who has known grief all her life.

Okay ill explain about the songs I gave a bit more, I mean- if you’re really that interested

oh and also *pulls out secret box* theres more

and I have like 30 others- but I mean…. you don’t want that, do you?………………but by chance…..some MIRACLE…..anyone wants………my………i mean……..my dms are open…………..I also like other neutral runs yk……..and like………yknow……….Undertale………

FRANCIS FOREVER!!!! This ones pretty self explanatory if you listen/you’ve listened to it before.

Not being who you want to be cause your other half isnt there, not being able to sleep, “I miss you more than anything” THE WHOLE SHEBANG!!!

Yk I actually made an animation inspired off of a certain part in the amv I have in my head for this song- But I used “Sailor Song” instead because……..I actually don’t know why, come to think of it-

BUT BASICALLY the line “I look up at the gaps of sunlight” before “I miss you more than anything” HURTS, yes, but ALSO

Sans cant exactly be looking up at….the sky cause uh…..underground. So he’s looking at the hole that you fall from!

THE ONLY THING!!!! This one is mainly vibes, lyrics are REALLY GOOD TOO but vibes for the neutral ending specifically…Its kinda nostalgic and childhood wondery (I LOVE SUFJAN STEVENS SO GODAMN MUCH OMG) and thats very much how I feel Toriels house/general demeanor is like :3

But i’m kinda stealing from the fan assumption/theory that Papyrus is often the only thing that convinces Sans that some things he does ARE worth doing even in a repeating world

“how do I live with your ghost” “everything i see/feel returns to you somehow” “I wanna save you from your sorrow”

ok but the saving from sorrow thing has 2 meanings, 1 twords Papyrus and the other to Tori, cause ALSO stealing from the fan theory/assumption that Sans hides a LOT from Papyrus and while I dont personallyyyyyy believe it cause I think the King Papyrus thing was a one time REALLY difficult choice- BUT ITS SAD AND IT WORKS FOR HERE.

THEN! it also works for Toriel cause he’s saving her from sorrow from telling her about what the human is really like

SLEEPYHEAD! This is from Toriels perspective now!!!

Again, pretty self explanatory if youve listened to the song, “theres dust upon the stairs” OMG! DUST!?!?! LIKELIKELIKE UNDERTALE???!?!?!?

Also “I have never been the type to go to church, but I pray for her(Him) each night” Toriel is shown to be religious in Deltarune so id assume shes the same in Undertale…

“Please dont forget that im your friend”

DON’T FORGET!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

But anywho- in an amv of this id think that… Toriel has no fucking clue whats up, cause Sans hasn’t told her, but she still “prays for him each night”/is worried for him cause CLEARLY HES UNWELL

DEAR THEODISIA….IS MORE SANS AND TORIEL/ALSO ASGORE THAN THE ENDING ITSELFFFFFFF BUT JUST HEAR ME OUT

Burrs whole thing is about his daughter… and Hamiltons is his son….

Toriel and Asriel…and Sans and Papyrus….IT ACTUALLY WORKS SO WELL AND I SOB IMAGINING THE AMV POSSIBILITIES

Asriel: you will come of age with our new nation, we’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll pass it on to you AAAAUUUUGHHH

Papyrus: pride is not the word im looking for, there is so much more inside me now, you outshine the morning sun AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Asriel will blow them all away by being KING some day, and Papyrus will by just being the coolest motherfucker in Snowdin and also ROYAL GUARD

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x22817 · 18 days ago

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I just had my first meet & greet with my first client on my website! I honestly don't know how it will work out though.

This husband and wife is leaving for a week tomorrow afternoon. They are having the wife's best friend stay at the house with her three small dogs. She is there to take care of the human sons and her dogs. She will not go near this couple's dogs. Apparently, the best friend is too scared of the pit bull and pit Catahoula mix to even let them out of their crates. I was also informed that they are very protective of the wife.

When I got there, she had the Catahoula puppy on a harness. As soon as I got out of the car, this dog was barking, and lunging, and growling, hackles up, the whole shebang. It would not stop. This woman had to use all of her body to wrangle this dog into the house and close the door.

Without telling me. She opens the door and lets out her other full-grown full blood pit, who is as big as I am. Thankfully, this dog is nice. She just doesn't have any control over it. It jumped up on me and knocked me over. It put several large scratches on my car jumping up and trying to get in. It takes all her strength to drag this dog back inside as well.

I ask her to show me where the boys kennels are at in the (brand new, very nice) house. Every single door in that house was destroyed by these dogs. She has a room for them that is full of old crates they have destroyed. They have chewed through a wall enough that they can stick their nose through the hole. Where the current kennels are, there's no floor, there's no paint on the wall. They were both barking and snarling in their kennels.

On our way out, she mentions how she's "the only female in a house of 8 males. The dogs take turns humping her. The sons pick on the dogs and cause them to lash out. The husband promotes the bad behavior of the boys. The husband also wants them to be out off leash, so he hides the collars and leashes.

I just. It was so much. And they don't even want me for training. Idk if $40 a visit is worth possibly getting bit. I don't know how much the dogs behavior will change when they are gone. I told her that I would do what I could with them, but I am not going to get myself bit.

This is a perfect example of why I would not call myself a trainer yet. I don't feel 110% confident handling these dogs.

#pet sitting adventures #not the kind of adventures I was hoping for #but she's the first client on the website #not through Rover

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kabillieu · 6 days ago

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We have another meetup with my big kid's new friend today.

I just want to take a moment to express how grateful I am for sweet little girls. Sweet little girls have always been accepting and nonjudgemental of my child. He's always had at least one girl friend who loves to help him, include him, and play with him. I try not to be too gender-essentialist as much as I can, but there's something about the way girls interact with my audhd kid that has always been special, and I appreciate it so much. Plus, it's just good for him to have girl friends, especially as he gets older.

Yesterday I took my kid to his weekly STEAM club at a micro school startup that meets near my house. "Micro school startup" are words that seem crazy to me because I believe SO MUCH in public school, even though clearly public school is not a fit for many children, including mine, but I'm grateful for other people who are out there creating alternative and hybrid options. There's a private school in Birmingham that's just for kids with neuro-differences like dyslexia and ADHD. It almost (ALMOST) has me believing in school vouchers. What really needs to happen is that public schools need to be flooded with ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD and that will go a long way to fix many systemic problems, but until that happens (which it will never) my kid and my family are suddenly outside of the system. So micro school startup it is! Anyway, this "school" meets twice a week, and from what I can tell the kids basically complete their online curriculums individually while also having regular breaks where they do extra activities with each other. Then on Tuesdays there's a STEAM club and on Thursdays there's a nature club. I'm interested in eventually signing my kid up to do everything, but for now we're starting really slow by going to STEAM club. After the holidays I'm enrolling him in nature club. And then hopefully after we have a few weeks of completing online curriculum at home under our belts, I'll be able to enroll him in the whole shebang.

I guess I don't want to get my hopes up too much. This might not work for us. I'm trying to just have a flexible attitude and understand that we have to try new things and keep making adjustments, and eventually we'll figure out what works, what doesn't, and go from there.

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crybaby-bkg · 9 months ago

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CONTROL FREAK

Getou Suguru x f!reader Warnings: smut, ex con getou, cult leader getou, parole officer reader, abuse of authority, unprotected sex, riding, gum swapping, spit as lube, a couple gentle face slaps, mention of drugs. please let me know if I missed anything!! Word Count: 4.1k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on Ao3!

Getou Suguru was an odd case for you, different compared to the other ex-cons you’re usually in charge of. You would get the occasional murderer, or arsonist, or drug addict who did stupid shit and landed themselves behind bars. But you had never been in charge of such an…infamous parolee.

He was a cult leader, though he never actually claimed that his organization was a cult itself. He always used this roundabout type of language when he was in court being questioned for his charges—money laundering through his organization. You use the term lightly, because if judging by the way his workers acted during the trial, with such admiration and devotion in their eyes, it couldn’t be labeled as anything but cultish.

Somehow, the attractive felon was only sentenced to sixteen months in prison. His workers and supporters fussed and hollered at the sound of that, earning a few of them their own charges for disorderly conduct in the courtroom. But he—he was cool faced the entire time. Only nodded his head once when delivered his sentencing, put his hands behind his back without a fight, an easy smile on his face as he was walked out, a wink sent to the supporters who sobbed at the sight of him.

He did his time well, you heard through the grapevine from your CO friends. Said he received tons of mail everyday, always had money on his books, and anyone who tried stepping to him always ended up in the infirmary just days later. (Though, he never had a trace of blood on him; never had scarred knuckles or bruises or anything. You had theorized with the CO’s that he somehow kickstarted another cult in the prison, too.)

When he was released, you heard that there was this whole shebang about the ordeal. That his workers showed up, deep in numbers, with signs and cries of his name. They argued over who would be taking him to his new home, but you heard they all sobbed when he told them that he’d be driving himself and would stay there at the new house—alone.

The house looks a bit like shit though, you think to yourself as you stand outside of it. Getou had visited you the day after he got out to get his paperwork sorted, what his parole consisted of for the next four years, acquainted himself with you, and the like. He looked the same as when he was in court, that was broadcasted on the news, the same as when he was publicly arrested, the same as when his followers would post videos of him and his infamous speeches. (For the greater good, was his motto. It sounded more like; do whatever is necessary for my satisfaction.)

You think they’re all shit. A scam meant to prey on the little people who have no direction in life. It doesn’t help that he’s attractive; has a tall build, seemingly lanky until he unfurls his shoulders, can find muscle peeking from under his usually baggy clothes, kind eyes that draw an innocent in, midnight black hair that has only grown longer since his time in prison. You can admit that he’s pretty, and you believe that that’s some of the allure that brings so many vulnerable, easy to manipulate people to damn near bowing down to the man.

Well, not you. You weren’t that fuckin’ stupid nor desperate nor weak willed. If anything, you’d have the once powerful man eating from the palm of your hands. Besides, he has to listen to everything you say and command him to do, lest he want to go back to his cell for the rest of his probation time.

You think you’re gonna have some fun with him.

You bang your fist on the door far too hard for it to be so early in the morning. You assumed one of his lackeys would come running, greeting you with a huff and their nose stuck in the air, even though he promised it would only be him living in the house. But you’re surprised by the presence of Getou Suguru himself.

He opens the door fully, his eyes closed as he smiles softly at you, breathing your name out quietly. He towers over you, feels like he looms over your head, and you can’t tell if its intentional. When you first met him, you were both sitting, but now—unless its all in your head—it feels like he’s trying to assert himself in some way. Like he’s trying to placate you with his disarming smile, but his posture tells you everything but. He notices the same time you do, and relaxes against the openness of the door, folding his arms across his chest, body adorned in a matching dull gray sweater and sweatpants. You try not to look down.

“Good morning, officer,” he greets you, head tilting to the side, and you notice his hair is loose from the usual bun he adorned. “Can I ask the reason for your visit this fine Tuesday morning?”

His voice is like silk, must have some kind of charm imbued into it, you think to yourself. You twist your mouth this way and that, eyebrows furrowed as you take all of him in. (Yes, even between his legs, but you make the glance quick. He seems to notice, anyway, and smiles a little wider at you.)

“Just doing a house check.” You nod your head to the humble abode he stands in, looks more like some dull shack that you would’ve never expected him to stay in. He was known for liking the finer things in life. “Since it’s a new property that was brought while you were incarcerated by one of your followers, I need to do a thorough inspection.”

Well, you didn’t have to. But you figured that it wouldn’t hurt, and he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would cry about you not following the rules exactly how you should. You just wanted to drop in and make sure that he wouldn’t be running another scam in the house, nor supplied any kind of weaponry.

“Also gonna need you to piss in a cup for me.” You expect for him to argue, as he should. That wasn’t a special condition for him, as he never had any kind of charges brought up on drugs, despite there being an inkling that he kept them supplied for his followers. But he only huffs a little laugh at you, head tilting this way and that until locks of his hair cover his dark eyes.

“That’s no problem at all, officer.” Getou says easily, another smile gracing his face as he swings the door open wider for you to come in. It makes you give pause, but you don’t let him stump you. After all, you were the one in charge here.

So you strut inside like you own the place, the gum you had pushed to the corner of your mouth finding its place between your molars again as you chew loudly. You cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing when you turn to watch Getou shut the door behind you, his gaze dropping down for a second before they meet your own again.

“Parole officers don’t wear uniforms?” He inquires, hands shoved in his pockets as he slouches slightly in front of you. You roll your eyes at him, motioning for him to show you around the house with a grunt.

“Did you see me in a uniform while in my office?” You snark at him, not giving him anytime to answer before you speak again. “Show me where you sleep, parolee.” You spit the term out, a reminder of his place; beneath you. He only looks at you with eyes so dark you fear they may be blacker than night, before they’re shaded by another lock of his hair. He doesn’t say anything, just strolls on casually away from you, heading down a long hallway with a few doors on each side.

“No followers live here like they do at the other compound?” You ask him, hand on your weapon in case anybody tried any magic tricks while you strolled behind him. Getou huffs a chuckle under his breath, looking at you from over his shoulder as he stops at the last door at the end of the hallway.

“Compound?” He questions, as if the very thought of that word makes absolutely no sense. “You mean the group home I brought for my workers, as most of them were unhoused?” You roll your eyes at him, waving a dismissive hand as you push past him to open the door.

“Cult, not cult. House, compound for said cult. Same thing.” You mutter under your breath, peaking your head in before you fully enter. You glance over your shoulder when you feel Getou’s presence entirely too close behind you, but he only sends you another one of those calm smiles. It feels everything but calm though, with that glint in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know about the man.

Gods, you can’t wait to fuckin’ break him.

You walk slowly around the room, placing your feet in front of the other with unhurried steps. Your chin is held high, as if the place disgusts you, even though he keeps his space notably clean. The only strewn thing in the room are the covers, barely ruffled, as if he had roused them when he got up to meet you at the door.

You peak in his closet, under his mattress, behind a few things on the dresser. You don’t find anything until you open the little black nightstand beside his bed, a sudden throb making your thighs clench at the sight of a pocket pussy, and a box of extra large condoms sitting beside them.

“You aren’t hiding any drugs in this thing, are ya?” You mumble to him, picking up the toy with the tip of your index finger and thumb, though the weight of it almost makes you drop it. It even feels ghastly warm, as if he had just been holding the thing…close to him, before you made him open the door.

Getou only laughs at you, placing a hand on the middle of his stomach, his eyes closed in mirth. He seems to be mocking you though, with the low gaze he sends you when his little fit ends, how his fist curls into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. He tilts his head at you, eyes sliding between your own and the toy that you hold, a clear, sticky substance still oozing from the hole.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” Getou shakes his head, as he leans against the dresser closest to you. “No drugs, officer. Just the usual stuff that goes inside that kinda thing.” He’s sly, with his mouth pulled tight and his gaze locked on you like a predator. But you’ve never been prey, and you wouldn’t start that shit now.

You drop the toy on the middle of his bed, sending him a faux shrug when you watch the thing dribble out whatever he must’ve left inside of it. You try not to act bothered, try not to size up just how deep he got into the toy, because based on how low you saw it hang through his sweats earlier, there was no way that toy was taking every inch.

You plop down on the bed, ignore the toy rolling toward you from the added weight, sitting your bag down beside you. You rummage through it for a few seconds before you pull out a clear cup with a white top, leaning back on one hand as you offer the cup to Getou.

“Well, now that my inspection is done, its time for the next step: piss in this cup for me, parolee.” You tell him with a sarcastic grin, one that he only faintly smiles at. He stands on the other side of the room, taking all of you in for a moment; the cup dangling from your fingers, your crossed thighs that you keep trying to subtly clench, the pocket pussy oozing precum on the hip of your jeans, your eyes trying to stay above his neck.

Getou smiles at you. Crossing the room in only a few short strides, he goes to pluck the cup out of your hand, willing to play your little game, but you don’t let go. He pauses, one of his eyebrows raising in question, his cold fingers grazing your own as you both hold the plastic. You quirk your own eyebrow at him, before a sly smirk crosses your face.

“You gotta do it right here, while I hold the cup.” You whisper to him, grin growing Cheshire when his eyebrows twitch only a hair. “Precautionary measures, and all.” You shrug, head resting back on your shoulder, your position entirely too relaxed for what you’re trying to make him do. But Getou composes himself quickly, his grip loosening on the cup as he cocks his head ever so slightly.

“Is that so?”

“I fear it is.” You hum, twisting your mouth a little to the side, as if your made up rules disappoint you. Getou plays into it though, as he finally releases the cup, shoving his hands into his pockets as takes a single step away from you.

“Well, it looks like you’ll have to come back later to retrieve your sample.” He says, looking down his nose at you, lips twitching at the corner. It makes your own mouth pull down slightly, trying to gauge what game he’s playing at, keep the control solely in your corner. You slit your eyes at him, clear cup still held out in between the two of you.

“And why is that, parolee?” You lower your voice, eyes narrowing at the now grinning man, his shoulders hiked up to his ears in an over exaggerated shrug.

“Well, most people can’t piss when they’re hard.” He says softly. Your eyes instantly shoot down to between his legs, at the now very obvious erection tenting the fabric. You’re not sure how you hadn’t noticed beforehand, but its kind of hard to miss now, with how he takes a step forward again. The thickness of it twitches at your wide eyed stare, and you can even see a little spot beading with precum through the gray fabric.

The silence between the both of you is thick, heavy with tension, unsure of the other’s next moves. But you smile at him, throwing the cup to the other side of the room, as you splay your hands on his bed, leaning back on them, body open and inviting.

“It looks like I’ll just have to get a sample of something else instead, then.” You shrug, still trying to hold on to being carefree and in charge. But Getou can see the want in your eyes, and practically pounces on top of you when you crook a single finger at him.

He hovers over you, touching you and not all at once. He lingers, his mouth skimming yours, his erection just barely resting against where you need him most. He smiles, his palms splayed beside your head, his eyes teasing you.

“Take what you want, officer. I’m in no place to refuse you.” Getou whispers, gaze as charming as his cock that spills precum through the thick fabric onto your jeans. He doesn’t have to tell you twice, as you hook a leg over his thigh and flip him until you’re on top without any complaints from him.

If anything, the fucker just grins at you, hands squeezing your waist as you settle on top of him like it’s your gods given right. He runs his palms up under your shirt until his cold touch sends chills down your spine, mouth twitching when you settle heavily on his throbbing cock.

“You couldn’t refuse me if you tried, parolee.” You snark at him, guiding his hands to your chest to squeeze. His lids lower, his head tilted back, hands warming up from your fiery skin as he kneads your chest in his palms.

“Why on earth would I ever try that?” Getou says breathily, reaching around to unclip your bra effortlessly, makes you wonder how many times he’s been able to do that with some unsuspecting girl.

“You’re a smart boy; you know better than that.” You smile at him, peeling your shirt from over your head the same time he undoes your bra, everything going at once. Getou admires you for a few seconds, his lips just barely parted as he palms your nipples in his hands, rolling them around until you sigh out of pleasure.

His hands are surprisingly soft, a little clammy, cold enough to make your nipples stiffen up under his touch. He rolls them between his forefinger and thumb, plucking at them to hear your voice hitch just the slightest bit. Your hips roll against his own, earning you a soft hiss that makes you grin wickedly at him.

You lean down to peel his shirt off of his own body, finding yourself nose to nose, chest to chest, with him. Only a beat passes before you both surge forward, lips meeting in a rough kiss. His teeth knock against yours, his tongue pushing and pushing, yours doing the same. They tangle together in a messy kiss, spit sliding from your mouth into his, and when you pull back, breathless, Getou is chewing with a suspicious grin.

“You nasty fucker,” you moan to him, diving in to steal your gum back, but he puts up a fight. Grinds you down against his cock, feels for the dip between your lips, rubs the thick shaft between them until your body goes limp on top of his. He does everything he’s wanted with your mouth since the moment he first laid eyes on you, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he palms both cheeks of your ass.

Few words are exchanged as you unzip your jeans, shimmying out of them with the desperation only someone thirsty for the cult leader could possess. He lays back with his hands behind his head as you yank his sweats down, mouth suddenly salivating when you see that he wasn’t wearing underwear this whole time.

“Pretty,” you murmur, holding him at the base as you lean over his cock, your lips pursing as you spit on the pink head of it. “See why all your little cult followers would go to war for you.”

You look up from under your lashes at Getou, who only grins at you, never confirming or denying this cult you keep speaking of. He only flexes his biceps once, twice, as he watches you pull your panties to the side and hover over top of him. He doesn’t even try to help you out, figures you’d want to stay in control, even though he’s really the one with all the power right now. But he lets you believe whatever you want, as long as you sit on his dick for the time being.

Without much thought, do you finally sink down on Getou’s thick cock. It’s bigger than you would’ve imagined, fat and heavy as it fills you up so delectably, you think you might split in two. You can feel every vein that twitches when you swallow him up, your eyes fluttering as you work yourself down, down, down until your lips meet his curly base.

“Tell anybody about this, parolee, and I’ll send your ass back to your cell for the next ten years.” You threaten him, but its hard for Getou to take you seriously with how breathy your voice is. How your eyes start to roll back when he ever so slightly cants his hips up inside of you. How you palm your lower stomach, groaning in pleasure when you feel his tip just barely beneath the surface of your skin. How your cunt wraps around him so deliciously, leaking all over his pubes, dribbles down in thick rolls around his waist onto the bed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, officer.” Getou smiles at you, giving you another false sense of control before he stops resting back on his hands to grip your hips. Without warning, Getou plants his feet on the bed, and begins snapping his hips up into you. You yelp, falling forward onto his chest, eyes clenched in pleasure as you can only hold on for the ride.

But you won’t let the fucker take control that easily. You push up on shaky arms as much as you can, back arching from the force of his thrusts, your eyes narrowing at his own cocky smile. You meet his thrusts halfheartedly as much as you can, fucking your hips back on his, the clap of your ass meeting his pelvis loud and echoing throughout the silent house. Getou only grins wider at you, makes you reach down to fist his hair in your hands.

At that, he moans, to your surprise. His eyes fluttering closed, his rhythm momentarily thrown off from the pleasure. But he regains his footing, staring up at you hazily with a shit eating grin, his nails digging into your skin as he fucks his cock inside of you, holding it there for a few seconds to hear you cry out his name.

He circles his hips, looking for that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. When he finds it, you mewl, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his scalp and the skin of his chest. Getou hisses through his teeth, but picks up his pace until it becomes brutal, his thrusts harsh and fast and dizzying enough that you collapse against him with a little cry of pleasure.

“Fuck, right there, right there!” You moan to him, searching for his mouth as you lean up the tiniest bit. He catches you, one hand still holding your cheeks open, the other gripping your face between big hands. He shakes your head at him, mocking, laughing under his breath at the dumb little look on your face—and to think you have so much power over him.

“Right there? Yeah?” He teases you, letting you go just to smack your cheeks lightly a few times before gripping you once more. You pout to him, nodding, reaching your hand down to start swiping at your clit, feeling your climax start to build with quickness you can barely prepare for.

“What a dumb look on such a cute face.” Getou grins at you, finally pulling you in for a kiss when you start to fuss at him. He quiets you with his lips, your gum swapping between your mouths again, sloppy. But you love it, can’t help but start to feel addicted to it, wonder if its worth it to give up your job and become one of his followers if he could fuck you like this every night. No wonder people became so addicted to him.

“Make me cum, parolee.” You whimper to him, your fingers rubbing at your clit, your other hand holding his face close to yours by his jaw. Getou opens his mouth in a moan, eyes heavily lidded as he looks at you, leans forward to lick at your teeth quickly.

He scans your face as he holds you down, his hips snapping up to fuck into you, your voice high and staccato as you can only hold on for the ride. Without much preamble, do you tumble over the edge of your climax, moaning out his name as you ride out your orgasm, clit throbbing with every pound of his hips inside of you. You both curse under your breaths, your eyes clenched shut as you try to meet his hips, although your lower body trembles with exhaustion when he continues to pound inside of you.

Suddenly, Getou pulls himself out of you, barely managing to slide his tip out before he’s coming all over your stomach. It drips back down onto his own clammy skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes closed in bliss as he empties his load all over your tummy, your pubes, aims for the little gaping hole that he, sadly, had to pull out of.

When he finishes, do you reach between your bodies, swiping a finger through the mess he’s made on you. You pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the slightly salty taste of him, hearing his groan, feeling his still hard cock twitch against your lower back as you sit on his pelvis.

“Nice job, parolee.” You grin to him, to which he chuckles under his breath at you. “I’ll make sure to get this sample in the system.”

thank you so much for reading! kind comments/likes/reblogs are all appreciated <3

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#getou treats! 🍬

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